


Crack Open a Cold One with Friends

by baberainbow



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: And Bucky Very Much!, Avengers: Ripping into Steve, BAMF Wanda Maximoff, Bucky Sam and Wanda Roadtrip, F/M, M/M, New Steve Loves the Future, Peter and Shuri Friendship, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Sam Wilson is A Good Man, Wanda Maximoff Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-02-15 22:57:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18679018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baberainbow/pseuds/baberainbow
Summary: Post-Endgame Spoilers!Bucky’s sudden gasp halts the group activity of Tearing Old Steve a New, Less-Weathered Asshole.“Where’s the other Steve?” Bucky asks, scanning around the room.Sam’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?”“Well, this Steve went back to the past to live with Peggy after the war, right? But, there would still be a Steve in the ice after the Valkyrie crashed. And that crash site and his body would have been found in 2011. So, where isthatSteve?”Everyone stares at Bucky. Then Old Steve gasps. “Oh god.”orSince Steve Rogers popped out of nowhere in the late 1940s, there was no need for Howard Stark to continue searching the Arctic sea for his body. But, the Steve that lay frozen in the ice remains, and Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, and Wanda Maximoff are going to thaw him out and assimilate him into the twenty-first century.





	1. A Few Minutes After

**Author's Note:**

> Endgame Spoilers. Still processing my endgame feelings. Realized it may be possible for Steve/Bucky to canonically have a happy ending because eve M&M and the RussoBros can't consistently figure out the time travel in this fucking movie. Hopefully this is cathartic to you as it was for me to write it.

“Should we head inside?” Old Steve asks, rising slowly from the bench. 

Bucky almost stops and says, “I don’t know how everyone will react,” but he keeps silent instead. 

An anger inside him is thrumming, snowballing, and he can’t pinpoint exactly why. His heart is broken, sure. But the anger is shapeless, stabbing at his guts, his heart, his head, and his lungs. 

“Sure,” Sam says, and Bucky just nods and follows as Old Steve slowly makes his way. Bucky is calling him “Old Steve” because he looks like a pink fucking tortoise, and his voice croaks. _The fucking serum doesn’t stop us from aging, huh?_

His heart is breaking, so sue him.

“If you remember, we just had breakfast before you returned the Stones. Everyone should be awake by now,” Sam says, leading the way up to the cabin. 

“I’m still confused about this,” Professor Hulk says, scratching his huge scalp with his green shovel hands. 

“Buck?” Old Steve says, hopefully. Bucky still hasn’t said anything to him, yet. He doesn’t know what to say, or even if he could say anything. His throat is clogged. 

For him, it’s been minutes. Barely ten minutes, really. And here Steve is, having living an entire life without him, and he seems totally fine about it. 

Bucky marches on, acting like he doesn’t have Super Hearing. 

“How are you, pal?” Old Steve asks again, but Bucky shrugs. 

“I was fine a few minutes ago,” he says tersely, and he makes his way inside. 

Everyone that stayed the night is in the open kitchen and living room. The Guardians left last night with Thor, and Nick Fury disappeared in that Nick Fury way he always does. Clint and Laura sip their coffee on the couch next to May Parker. Peter Parker is sitting on the floor, scrolling on his iPhone next to Shuri, laughing at something on the screen. T’Challa has his own chair, and he’s in his regal pajamas. Rhodey and Strange are on the other couch, munching on cereal while Hope and Scott sit in the adjacent love seat. Captain Marvel’s eating at the kitchen table while Wanda’s cleaning some plates at the sink. 

They’ve all been mourning, chilling, and catching up the way people do after not seeing each other for five fucking years. They’re a goddamn bona fide family. Well...

Laura chirps when Bucky’s through the door, “Done already? The kids just went up to the treehouse, and Lila and Cassie are dying to look at your arm if you wouldn’t mind.” Then she frowns. “Is everything okay?” 

Bucky doesn’t answer. He moves to lean against the wall, and he savors this last moment before everything goes to Shit. 

Sam Wilson may be a good mediator and a calm presence, but the Cluster Fuck about to unfold cannot be tamed by even his demeanor and assistance. 

Sam seems to realize this, walking into the house and giving Bucky a “we’re fucked, huh?” kind of look. 

Professor Hulk walks in next, and he takes a spot on the ground in the no man’s land between the kitchen and living room as no couch can hold him without squeezing someone. 

Then, finally, when Old Steve walks slowly into the house, Wanda drops the plate she’d been washing and shrieks. 

Everyone whiplashes when they spot Old Steve, just as confused and bewildered as Wanda. It’s like a damn record scratches when everyone realizes the geezer standing before them is Steve Rogers. 

“Hello, everyone. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you all,” Old Steve says, waving gently. 

Clint chokes on his coffee, and Laura has to pat his back. “What the fuck?” Clint says. 

“What happened to you?” Rhodey gasps. “Cap is old now?” 

“Did something go wrong when you returned the Stones?” T’Challa asks. “What has caused this?”

“Yes, I need an explanation,” Wanda says, eyes piercing right at them. She sees Sam is holding the intact Shield, and her eyes widen. “A very detailed explanation.” 

“Dude, we just saw you like not even half an hour ago? We were all eating breakfast. You took the last chocolate sprinkled donut and wouldn’t fess up to it,” Scott says. 

Old Steve sits down in an empty chair in the living room, and it takes him a second to lower himself into the seat. Everyone stares, enthralled and terrified. 

He clears his throat. “As you all know—” he starts. 

“Yep, this is Steve,” Clint deadpans, settling back into his chair. “Holy fuck.” 

Old Steve continues, “As you all know, I volunteered to return the Stones to their proper timelines. I made the executive call, however, to stay in the past.” 

“Why?” or “What?” everyone squawks simultaneously. 

Old Steve chuckles, but no one is laughing. “I decided to start living. I found my best girl and made an honest man of myself.” 

Crickets are actually chirping outside this cabin, and their presence is more noticeable. 

“Holy fuck?” Clint gasps again. 

“Living?” Rhodey scoffs. “Are you saying you weren’t ‘living’ enough when you were with us?” 

“Living? Like how Natasha and Tony aren’t?” Clint adds, glaring. 

Bucky blows out some air. “Tell them, Steve.” 

“After I returned the final Stone, I used the last of my Pym Particles and went back to the 1940s. And I started a family. I’ve aged a bit, since then. This is the first time I’ve seen you all in, what for me, is eighty something years.” 

Wanda looks furious. “And this is the brunette woman? The one you saw when I gave you a vision back when Ultron was around? That woman?” 

Old Steve smiles, “Yes. Peggy. I went back in time to start a life with her. We were married for seventy years. She passed in 2016. I know the current year is 2023, but I was busy with my children and grandchildren. I made sure to come back to this place around the time I knew I left to return the Stones.” 

“But, didn’t Peggy Carter have children? And a husband? I saw your exhibit at the Smithsonian when I was in DC for a class trip,” Peter Parker butts in.

“Yes, she did,” Hope grits through her teeth. “Her daughter babysat me sometimes when Mom and Dad were working. Peggy’s husband, Daniel, was a good friend of my father’s.” 

“Yeah. Peggy was married!” and “What about your children did you just say?” “Dude, you wanted to live in the 1950s? I thought you were all about that Civil Rights lifestyle?” “Kids?” and other questions clog the air.

Old Steve waves his hands to try to silence everyone. “No, I went back to her before she got married. We became official in 1946. We had two children, one in 1950 and the other in 1953. We married finally in 1970.” 

“No, her kids babysat me. Like I just said,” Hope bites back. “Why is my memory of them the same?” 

“My head hurts,” Peter confesses, rubbing at his temple. 

“So these kids are alive now?” Wanda asks. “Where are they?” 

Old Steve explains, “One’s in New York. The other’s in England.” 

Professor Hulk asks, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes, “Wait, wait. If you went back in time, you changed the future. You didn’t create a new timeline? This happened in our universe? Our timeline?” 

Peter thunks his head against the cushion by May’s legs. “Yeah, I’m really confused.” 

“So, how could everything have happened if you went in the past and stayed there?” Hulk asks. “How is our timeline the same?” 

“Yeah? How is our present unaltered?” chimes in Shuri, who, let’s be real, has been quiet longer than everyone expected. “If you went back in time and you didn’t start a new timeline, how is everything basically the same?” 

Old Steve may look like a shriveled prune, but Bucky Barnes can read any expression Steve Rogers of all ages could wear, so he recognizes the guilt radiating from his crinkled eyes. Oh fuck.

Everyone seems to realize it before Old Steve can explain.

“Holy shit,” Hope says, eyes widening like saucers. 

Bucky feels a shiver run up his spine. 

“You didn’t do anything?” Peter basically yelps, jumping from the couch and crawling on the ceiling like it’s a coping mechanism. “Captain America of all people _didn’t do anything_?!” 

“He was a side-hoe!?” Shuri exclaims. 

“You let everything unfold without...” Bucky swallows. He doesn’t mean to sound so bitter when he says it, but he still whispers, “So you let them keep me the entire time?” 

Everyone gets quiet again. Old Steve faces Bucky and sighs. Bucky’s eyes sting. 

“Who is ‘them?’” May asks quietly. 

“HYDRA,” Bucky mumbles, shifting uncomfortably under everyone’s gaze. “The people that brainwashed and tortured me for seven decades.” 

“You let Sokovia fall from the sky?” Wanda hisses from her teeth. Her eyes are red, but not in a magic-power way. She looks on the verge of tears. 

“Steve did 9/11?” Peter Parker squawks right as Shuri says, “Captain America let Harambe die? For some coochie?” 

“You made out with your niece?” Clint says, and he coughs on his coffee again. Laura has to hit on his back. 

T’Challa rises from the couch, eerily calm. “You did nothing to stop the United Nations Bombing? My father could have been saved?” Shuri has to pull him back down, stopping him from pouncing Old Steve. 

“You could have stopped the entire fiasco in Berlin in 2016!” Rhodey says, pointing at his legs. “Did you even think about that?” 

“Oh, dear,” May mutters under her breath. 

“Wait, so if you were here to whole time, couldn’t you have gotten Scott out of the Quantum Realm earlier? So all the Undusted wouldn’t have had to wait five years for a solution?” Hope asks, her voice laced with tension. “Are you sure you’re Captain America? That’s not very leader-like to me.” 

Old Steve rubs at the back of his neck. “I had to. I couldn’t change anything more than I already had. I couldn’t jeopardize my family...” he starts, then stops. 

That might not have been the most tactful thing to say in a room of shocked and increasingly pissed off superheroes. 

“It’s still me,” Old Steve insists. “I still experienced everything with you. I care for you all very much.” 

“You don’t get it, do you? You may have been away from us for decades, but we all just saw you moments ago. And now you’re an entirely different person, inside and out. I can’t recognize your soul or flesh,” Wanda snarls, wrangling the dish towel. She slumps into the seat next to Captain Marvel, and she drops her head into her hands. She mumbles into the table mat, “So, you got us back? And you left us anyway? You didn’t miss us at all for eighty years?” 

“That’s a dick move,” Scott points out. “I didn’t know Captain America could pull a dick move like that.” 

Old Steve turns and looks at Sam and Bucky like they might be able to help him out. 

Bucky won’t meet his gaze. Steve Rogers, geriatric or not, should have learned by now that Bucky’s not always going to stop the fights he starts. Bucky’s done being discarded and used by both the ones he hates and _loves_.

The room is tense. Sam clears his throat because he is a good man. “Well, I’m the New Captain America, now. Yay?” 

No one is in the mood to celebrate. 

“I cannot believe this,” Wanda says. “We just lost Tony and Natasha...and now you?” 

“Wanda, I’m here now. Listen,” Old Steve begs. “Please let me explain.” 

Then, a door squeaks open upstairs. Everyone holds their breaths as Pepper Potts comes down the stairs with Morgan Stark on her hip. “Let’s go see what everyone’s talking about,” she says to Morgan still out of view. 

Oh no. 

“I heard some commotion,” Pepper says, halfway down the stairs. Now she has sight of what’s happening, and her face falls. She stops mid-step, and she has to balance herself on the rails. “Oh.” 

“Who’s that old man?” Morgan asks, breaking the silence. “Do I know him?” 

Old Steve bows his head. “I’m Steve Rogers. I was friends with your dad.” 

Pepper stares at Old Steve, scanning over him. You could hear a pin drop. 

“Well,” Pepper finally says, composing herself as she wipes a tear from her eye. “I’m just gonna go back upstairs.” She re-hefts Morgan up on her hip and heads back up, unready to face this right now. 

Doctor Strange interrupts the stunned silence once a door upstairs closes, “You abused the timeline.” 

“And my father’s technology,” Hope interjects. 

“You risked the existence of this world as we know it without consulting us,” Strange continues. 

“For some coochie?” Shuri exasperates, almost like she finds it hilarious, disappointing, and horrifying at the same time. 

Strange opens his mouth and waits to make sure no one will interrupt him again. “You manipulated and threatened time with willful ignorance. This is an egregious offense. Do you understand the consequences of this 'executive call' as you put it?” 

“You took a huge fuckin' chance on a what-if, pal,” Clint says, wiping at his eyes. 

Old Steve nods. “The what-if was worth it. I loved her, and I was happy.” 

“One man’s happiness should not threaten the very thread of our existence,” Strange scolds. “Give me one reason not to reverse this.” He flexes his hand—because apparently, even in his pajamas, the Time Stone is affixed in its pendant around his neck— and swirls of yellow appear in the living room. 

“Hey, hey!” Sam starts. “Stand down!” 

Old Steve lifts a hand to gesture a stop of the commotion. “I can’t give you a reason. Not one that will satisfy you. I understand the weight of my decision. And I know you are all upset-” 

“That’s a bit of an understatement,” Hope gripes. 

“Upset?” Wanda heaves, and then the dam breaks loose all over again.

Bucky’s still against the wall. He’s still in denial about it all. He remembers how last night he’d been begging Steve not to do anything reckless with the Stones, and how Steve had chided him and deflected. He sensed Steve was up to something; that’s why he said he would miss Steve. Just in case something went haywire. And fuck, did this go wrong. 

“Look, alright. Alright!” Old Steve raises his worn, old voice. “I know! This isn’t exactly the reunion I expected. I did miss you all. Dearly.” 

“Then why did you leave? What are we going to do without you, Steve?” Wanda pleads, eyes brimming with tears. 

Carol Danvers raises her hand. She’d been mellowly eating her yogurt at the kitchen table, listening in but not interjecting. 

“Space Girl,” Rhodey says, pointing at her hand. 

“Look. The only compelling reason I had to stay away from Earth for the majority of twenty plus years — away from my loved ones— was because I had to help those who needed me. Because I couldn’t sit back, knowing a planet or an alien race needed my help. I may sound crass to say this, but reliving your life in spite of all of this pain it caused to others is not a compelling reason. You sat by knowingly, Captain Rogers, just to satisfy your personal needs. That's not compelling enough at all.” 

“Yeah, what she said!” Scott agrees. 

Peter adds, “I thought you once said you couldn’t stand by if you saw a situation heading south? Mr. Stark told me you said that.” 

Clint stands up from the couch he’d been sharing with Laura with a murderous look in his eyes. “Natasha died for everyone to come back. And you abandoned them right after? Like, this might be just a few minutes for us, but you decided to go eighty years without us. Right after she died? God, she would have kicked your ass over this.” 

“Honey!” Laura begs, tugging his hand when he starts to move. 

Old Steve wipes at his eyes. “I’m sorry. But I’m not sorry at the same time.” 

“Fuck you!” Clint snarls, and then his resolve breaks. “Natasha would hate you for that.” 

“Look, we can’t change it now. It would threaten time as we know it way more than it needs,” Hope says. "It's too risky to change, Strange." 

After a moment, Doctor Strange relieves his hands, and the portals subside. Hope is right. 

Tears stream down Wanda’s face. “I hope you are happy you made this decision on all of our behalf,” she deadpans. “What are we going to do without you?” 

“If this is what he decided to do after everything, how can we be sure we even would need him?” Clint gripes. 

Bucky’s sudden gasp halts the group activity of Tearing Old Steve a New, Less Weathered Asshole. 

“Bucky?” Wanda asks, concerned as she wipes away at her face with the sleeve of her shirt. 

Bucky steps forward, trying to articulate his thoughts. “If Steve right here went back in time to the 1940s, and he admits to changing basically nothing else…” then he stops. 

“Yes, and?” Wanda encourages. 

“What about it?” Hope asks. 

“Dude, that’s what we’re mad about,” Scott adds. 

“So, where’s the other Steve?” Bucky continues finally, scanning around. 

Sam’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?” 

“Well, this Steve went back to the past to live with Peggy after the war, right? But, there would still be a Steve in the ice after the Valkyrie crashed. And that crash site and his body would have been found in 2011. So, where is that Steve?” 

Everyone looks at Bucky. Then Old Steve gasps. “Oh god.” 

“They would have stopped looking for him. Wouldn’t they?” Bucky asks. His heart is racing. 

“My head is really hurting now,” Peter groans. 

Doctor Strange says, “Well, if what this Steve is saying is true, then the other Steve would still be under the ice.” 

“I need an aspirin,” May sighs, and she heads upstairs to her guest room. “Anyone else need one?” 

Everyone but Old Steve and Bucky raises their hand. 

“Oh god, he’s right. The Other Steve would be in the ice still,” Hope agrees. “If Steve of 2023 went back in time to the 1940s, left everything untouched, then the past of Steve of 2023 remains the same. This Steve was defrosted in 2011, did everything that is consistent with our timeline up until this morning of 2023, and then he went back in time. So, this rift he’s caused allows for the timeline we know to remain, but also it would mean that there’s a Steve Rogers that wasn’t found in the Arctic.” 

“Exactly. Does this make sense to everyone?” Strange asks. 

“Um, a little?” Peter says.

“Nope,” Wanda says, emphasizing the P. “None of this makes sense. Even if it did, I still don’t know if I can wrap my head around the fact that you would leave us like that.” 

Strange kneads at his temple. “Rogers, you have truly disturbed the space-time continuum.” 

Bucky interjects, “Well, if there’s another Steve Rogers in an iceberg somewhere, does anyone want to join me in finding him?”

*

It turns out, Sam and Wanda are the only ones eager to come with him.

Everyone else has family, obligations of Greatness, high school, and kingdoms to run. 

The living room had scattered mostly after Bucky’s revelation, and no one was in the mood anymore to chit chat. 

Wanda took it upon herself to explain everything to Pepper while Sam and Bucky packed up their belongings. “We can take my car,” Sam insisted. 

Pepper offered to have old Stark Industries submarines used to locate Frozen Steve. She even gave Wanda one of Tony’s BlackCards that he handed out indiscriminately to Avengers without them even asking. Wanda wouldn’t say if Pepper took the news well, nor if Pepper was willing to speak with this Old Steve. She simply added that she wanted to go _now_. Sam and Wanda wanted to say goodbye to everyone. Bucky wasn’t sure if that was best. He felt awkward being in the house of the man whose parents he killed, and he wasn’t completely certain that some black ops group were not going to kidnap him in his sleep and hold him in a black site. 

Old Steve approaches Bucky as he finishes packing up the car. Bucky tosses his duffle bag containing three outfits into the trunk. 

“Will you talk to me?” Old Steve asks. “Please.” 

“What do you want me to say?” 

“Anything. I want to hear your voice. It’s been a long, long time.” 

Bucky slams the trunk and faces him. He leans against the car, arms folded, and he’s glaring right at Old Steve. “I knew you were reckless. I always did. But, Steve I don’t know if I can…” 

“I named my son after you.” 

Fuck.

His lip trembles. The cool composure he’d been trying to keep all morning crumbles. “What?”

“I named him after you, Buck,” Old Steve repeats. He takes a strand of Bucky’s hair and tucks it behind his ear.

Bucky grabs his wrists, eyes gleaming. “Don’t. You don’t get to do that.” 

Old Steve backs off. “Buck, I—” 

“You don’t get to touch me. Not like that.” 

“Bucky, please,” Old Steve begs. “I’ve missed you.” 

"I wanted to live in this new world with you, Steve. Together. My head was finally clear. But, I...I didn't know you could change like this. If I hadn't been dusted, and everything else was the same, you still would have gone back to her, right? Even if I was here with you the whole five years? I would not have been enough for you, huh?"

Old Steve gulps. "Bucky, it's hard to explain."

“No. It isn't. You wanted her, and I know that. Knew that. Whatever. I knew you would choose her over me, but I didn’t think you would go back in fucking time to prove it. If you’re trying to act like we can… now that she’s gone... you can’t have us both. You could have returned the Stones and come back like you were supposed to. You’ve always known that I loved you, Steve. We could have had something,” Bucky spits out. “Now, it hurts to look at you.” 

“We called him Jamie. Like your Ma called you,” Old Steve continues like it’ll help. “He was born in March, just like you were.” 

It hurts. It hurts like a fucking stab in the gut. “Stop,” he begs. 

“He’d remind me of you so much. Huge interest in science. He was top of his class, and he—”

“Please,” Bucky pleads. 

“He named his own daughter, my granddaughter, Becca after your—”

“Shut up, Steve. Please,” Bucky cracks, tears finally spilling. “Don’t hurt me like this.” 

“I could never hurt you, Buck,” Old Steve insists. 

Bucky snorts at that .“You did. God, when I didn’t see you on the time-machine platform after Hulk pressed the button, I thought the worst. But, fuck was I wrong. You hurt me worse than I imagined,” he sneers.

“Bucky, I lo...” but Old Steve stops. 

Bucky squints at him, heart racing and furious. “No. Say it. Tell me you love me.” 

“I love you, Buck. I always have and always will,” Old Steve insists, and he takes his leathered hand and places it over Bucky’s metal one. “I love you.” 

Bucky leans in close. “Then tell me: did you tell your Jamie what his namesake endured at his expense,” he hisses into his ear. “Did you tell your Jamie that?” 

Old Steve pulls away, and he takes a deep breath. “Buck.”

Bucky can be cruel. He can be. He yanks Old Steve closer to him and grits out, “Was it all worth it? Because, I was getting my ass railed and my head fried while you were fucking her. Happy with her. You took her life away, Steve. And you took mine. But, for you, was it that good?” 

Old Steve chokes out a mangled sob. Bucky holds Old Steve’s chin and stares into his eyes. “The end of the line meant nothing to you, maybe. But this frozen Steve? Maybe it means something to him.” 

“Bucky, I—” 

“Goodbye,” Bucky says, finally. 

He pushes Old Steve away and stalks into the driver’s seat of the car. Old Steve backs away slowly as Bucky puts the car in reverse and swivels from the spot. He pulls up in front of the cabin and lays it on the horn.

Wanda and Sam come out with their bags and the Shield in tow. They put their last few bags in the back seat, and Sam takes shot gun after opening the side door for Wanda. 

Old Steve watches as they drive away. 

Bucky rubs at his eyes as they careen through the long driveway to the main road. 

“Did you rip him a new one?” Wanda asks. Her eyes are still puffy. Bucky can’t blame her: she’s lost Vision, Tony, Natasha, and now Steve in the span of two days. She may be a soft, kind woman, but when she’s enraged, hell hath no fury like Wanda Maximoff. 

Bucky swallows and shrugs. “Hey, Cap?” he says instead, looking over at Sam.

It takes him a second, but then he looks at Bucky and smiles. “Yeah?” 

“Pull up the directions on Google for me?” 

“Sure, man,” Sam says.


	2. Chapter 2

The thing about skipping five years into the future (and being actually cognizant enough to realize it) is that you notice the little details even more so than the large, more prominent ones. 

Sure, Bucky knows they don’t have anywhere to live. Believe it or not, being a fugitive for three years means you don’t sign a lease somewhere. Unless Wakandans kept his hut and herd maintained for the past five years, Bucky has no claim to any land anywhere. Wanda and Sam are in the same boat. 

But, that’s not the point. 

“Can you believe it,” he gripes, tightening back up the gas cap. “It costs five dollars a gallon. That is nuts.” 

Sam thumps his head against the headrest. Wanda’s inside grabbing snacks and sodas. “Economies are all outta whack. Inflation’s fucked up. I mean, what happens when billions of consumers stop spending and selling? And what happens when all those people come back? We just found out. It’s whack,” Sam says, swiping through his new phone. He’s more interested in catching up on the world he’s missed. Bucky’s not too eager; he’s used to large gaps in time. “It says here that all the estate planning and insurance beneficiaries of the Dusted no longer are valid, and now there’s money that’s just gone. Imagine collecting on a Dusted person’s estate only for them to come back from the dead and ask for it back five years down the road. Whack.” 

Wanda hops back into the backseat. She tosses Sam a bag of M&Ms and Bucky a packet of gummies before depositing two, sweating bottles of Dr Pepper into their respective cupholders. “It costs $3.00 for one Dr Pepper now. Is that not strange?” she asks. “My ginger ale is $2.75. That seems excessive.” 

“We know,” Bucky says. He unscrews his soda open and throws back a sip. At least it tastes the same. There’s that. “How much longer we got, Cap?” 

Sam pulls up the directions. “Only a half hour till we're there,” he says with a smile stretching over his face. 

“When did you last see your mother, Sam?” Wanda asks softly. 

Bucky keeps his eyes forward when he hears Sam’s breath hitch. “I saw her a month before Berlin. So, eight years for her. Three for me.” 

Wanda’s eyes are soft. “I am so glad to finally meet her,” she says. “And your sisters.” 

“Yeah,” Sam says, voice cracking. “They’ll still make me take out the trash even if I’m Captain America.” 

Everyone laughs. 

Bucky imagines being a mother who loses not only one but two of her three children to the Snap. He thinks of his own mother; how she would have reacted to hearing he’d been killed after he fell from the train. How she probably would have taken more comfort in his honorable death more so than ever knowing what her alive son was turned into. He’s grateful in a way that his parents and sisters did not live to see him become this. 

“Thanks,” Sam starts, after a moment of quiet, “for coming here with me.” 

Wanda nods and Bucky says, “Of course.” 

It’s killing two birds with one stone really. Practical to do. They didn’t have anywhere to go, and Sam hadn’t seen his mother and sisters in years. As much as the three of them would love to have dramatically set forth immediately to recover the frozen Steve, they needed a plan. Sam's mother was offering her home. There was no reason not to drive from the Stark's home by the Hudson over to Rochester where Mrs Darlene Wilson was eagerly waiting to see her son.

*

Bucky is glad they came.

The Wilson Family Reunion plus Bucky and Wanda was a loud, emotional, and lovely event. Mrs Wilson herded the three into her home only for nieces, nephews, and siblings to ambush them at the door. 

Bucky had never seen Sam smile like that before surrounded by his family, reminiscing and catching up, back in his element. Wanda, usually reserved, was laughing and enjoying herself. 

Bucky had never felt so out of place yet truly welcome at the same time. He got to meet Sam's family for the first time, and the honor was not forgotten on him.

Sam’s younger sister Crystal had been dusted during the Snap as well as her twin sons. Sam’s nephews oohed and awed all over the Shield while Crystal teased in the way that siblings do that “Just because you’re a national icon all of a sudden, Sammy, doesn’t mean you’re _all that_.” 

Mrs Wilson provided them a hefty supper, and Sam’s sisters were more than obliged to recount embarrassing childhood stories about Sam to Bucky over dinner. “You’d never believe what he wore to his senior prom,” to “let me tell you about this one time in the ninth grade” and similar anecdotes had Sam trying to look embarrassed when he was really too obviously thrilled to be here with his family after so long. 

As the night wrapped up, the house began to empty. “We’ll be back tomorrow afternoon!” his older sister Leanne proclaimed as she and her husband tried to collect their own children out the door. “Yeah, we better take our Christmas card while Sammy’s here with his new frisbee,” Crystal joked as she and her sons left for the night. 

Bucky helped Mrs Wilson clean up the kitchen while Wanda helped Sam unload the car. “You’re a gem,” she told him as he dried her china with a rag. “A true gem.” 

Crystal insisted Wanda take her old bedroom for the night while Bucky was fixed up in the guest room. After Mrs Wilson headed to bed, they reconvened in Sam’s old childhood room to start hatching out a thorough plan.

And now, Bucky’s in a beanbag in Sam’s old bedroom trying to lay out plans of serious nature. 

“Pepper’s friend of a friend is offering to fly us directly to Svalbard. Technically you’re supposed to get there via Norway, but I guess former Avengers get a pass,” Sam says, reading through his emails. “A quinjet can pick us up tomorrow afternoon.” 

Wanda taps her heels together in the air; she’s lying on her stomach on Sam’s old bed and her brows are furrowed. “People are just going back to...doing?” she starts. 

Bucky nods. It’s weird that the world’s suddenly but still chugging along. Sodas are outrageously priced. Sisters are teasing. Flights are being arranged. People are going to work. Some deep sea excavators are planning to go searching for the Icy Captain America just like it’s a regular Tuesday. Some doctors and scientists are on stand-by for this new Steve like it's any other day. 

And Bucky cannot help but think that he too will move on. When he finds this frozen Steve he will… 

“Where will we go? What do we do?” Wanda asks. Bucky knows that Wanda doesn’t read minds, but it’s moments like this when their thoughts sync up that he begins to think otherwise. “When we have this Steve. Where do we take him?” 

Sam scratches at his forehead. “I was hoping we’d figure that out once we got to that point,” he says. 

Bucky laughs. “See, you’re a total fit for Captain America. Same MO, same planning... it’s like you’re the same person.” 

Wanda laughs. Sam gives a reluctant nod that Bucky has a point. 

“We obviously need a place to stay. A home-base. I don’t think right here’s the best place,” Sam admits. “I love my family, but the last thing he will need is strangers and—" 

“We will be strangers,” Wanda points out. “Except for Bucky.” 

Bucky sighs. “I don’t know. I’m not the same guy he’ll think I am. I’d have only been gone days when he crashed into the Arctic. I might as well be a stranger,” he says, softly. 

“But, we won’t give up on him,” Sam asserts. “We’ll make him feel welcomed. Help him assimilate. It’s the least we can do.” 

Wanda agrees, “We won’t give up on him.” She sniffs. “Maybe we can get him to stay this time.”

*

After a huge breakfast with the family and a very serious Christmas photo is taken, the quinjet arrives in the field behind the Wilson family home.

Mrs Wilson hugs her son goodbye. “I'm proud of you. Take care of this man you're searching for,” she tells them. “Bring him here if he needs some good lovin’.” Sam hugs his sisters, nieces, and nephews goodbye. 

Bucky and Wanda give him privacy, climbing into the jet with their bags in tow. There’s a pilot in the cockpit, waiting for a signal to head out. Bucky straps into his seat. 

Sam walks into the jet. “Now, let’s go get him.” 

They speed through the sky up North.

*

After a week of huddling on a Stark Industries ship, searching the icy depths, they find him. Wanda cries when she sees him; his skin pale, lips purple, and his hair frozen to his fringe.

“We’re bringing him home,” Sam tells her. 

“This isn’t the Steve I know,” she says, “But I love him. He is my family.” 

Bucky’s silent, watching as they delicately lift the ice he’d been trapped in up into the ship. This Steve has been sleeping for eighty years. His last memories are of drowning; freezing; saying goodbye to Carter. He’s read the transcripts; they were dramatic in a way only Steve could be about dying. This Steve watched Bucky plunge to his ‘death’ only days before. 

“We will keep him safe,” Bucky rasps, watching as scientists begin to take measures to preserve the ice before the journey back to the US for his thawing. 

They could have been faster, sure. When Natasha leaked SHIELD intel back in 2014, the coordinates Steve’s body had been found were released. He had been found about a hundred miles west of Svalbard in 2011, but climate change and the currents had moved him. 

They take a quinjet with his frozen body to go to a sister Avengers facility that specializes in medicine and research in Yonkers. Taking him to a normal hospital won’t do, and his body needs to be under constant supervision in case of an attempts to steal or destroy his body.

The flight back, even in speeds faster than a commercial or private jet, feels too long. But no one takes a second to waste. Scientists and agents alike hover around his body, studying it and examining it. Bucky hovers too, but in a more ‘I’m watching your every fucking move” kind of way to discourage any funny business. When one agent takes a subtle selfie with the iced Steve on his cellphone, he crushes it in his metal hand and threatens to drop kick him out into the sky. 

At the facility, the scientists take over. They’re colleagues of Helen Cho, trusted and vetted. 

Bucky knows this. He wants to trust them. He trusts their medical competency, but he still wants to watch the frozen Steve. Not let him out of his sight. 

They won’t let Bucky, Sam, or Wanda in the actual room, but there’s a room on the other side with a glass window that allows them to watch. 

“It’s going to take a while,” Bucky tells Wanda as she struggles to keep her eyes open after the fourth hour of watching Steve thaw. “They can’t just...heat him up with some blow torches or hairdryer or whatever. It’s a delicate process.” 

“How do you know that’s—” she starts, but then she closes her mouth. “Oh.” 

Yeah, Bucky might be an expert on adapting back into normal temperatures after being frozen. 

“He looks so cold,” she whispers. “I wish they could just chip the ice away with a pick and dig him out.” 

“They can’t,” Bucky tells her. “But that doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

*

Some agents from the CIA, FBI, and other acronym agencies come knocking hours after they’ve arrived at the facility. They all want the same thing.

Sam and Bucky swiftly and firmly reject their attempts to swindle “a look” at the thawing supersoldier. 

Some try to claim this frozen Steve is government property. One asserts that they have a right to oversee his thawing due to his status as a military operant who has gone MIA. Another threatens to arrest the frozen Steve once he’s woken up for violating the Sokovia Accords.

“Are you fucking serious?” Bucky asks, and then he closes them out. They’re in a secure wing of the facility, and he’s not letting them in no matter what. He takes pleasure slamming the door in their faces. 

Wanda frowns. “They’re going to try to latch onto him the moment he wakes up. Not give him a moment to rest.” 

“I know,” Bucky says. 

Sam rubs his temple. “Should we start thinking about what to do when he’s awake? How do we break this to him?” 

Bucky sighs. “I’ll do it.” He clenches his fist open and closed. “When he wakes up, I’ll be the one to tell him everything. Not some agent playing dress up in a fake room.”

*

On the second day, he’s still thawing. His vitals are good, given his condition. His heart beat is extremely slow, and his internal temperature is low enough to kill an average man.

It’s like watching paint dry, watching him come back to life. It feels intimate, almost too private and vulnerable that Bucky wants to look away. But he won't.

As they eat breakfast in the facility’s cafeteria, Sam and Bucky are given notice that they now have a place to live. Almost. It’s an extremely nice gesture on Clint’s part really. “Look, I used to own real estate in Bed-Stuy and Clinton Hill. Just had to call in a few favors. Buddy of mine has a unit available to rent. Updated appliances and kitchen. I can make sure a good security system’s in place. It might be a good place for, you know, this new Cap to settle in.” 

It’s a four bedroom, four bathroom townhouse in Bed-Stuy along Lafayette Avenue. When Bucky looks up the place online and sees the monthly rent, he chokes on his coffee. 

“I’m guessing even with the inflation, that’s really expensive?” he says after he sputters. 

Sam sips from his cup, “Well, I mean we have the BlackCard? And it’s not permanent. We can all live together. You both used to live in Brooklyn, right?” he asks. 

“We did. Red Hook. I haven’t been in Brooklyn since the night before I shipped out,” he says. “We should take it.” 

Sam texts Clint back. 

Sam also starts shopping online for clothes, necessities, and furniture. 

“This is the most amount of money I’ve spent in one day,” he tells Bucky, drinking his second cup of coffee. “I mean, we technically need all of it anyway.” 

Wanda comes to the table, and Sam leaves to take up his post watching Steve. They always want one person watching him at all times, so they’ve developed intervals to take turns when it comes to meals, showering, and sleeping. 

Bucky shows her the online listing of the townhouse, and her mouth drops. "That is very nice." 

"Yes," he agrees. "But we're taking it. Sam's already stocking up. He's having everything shipped there, and some movers are coming in two days."

Wanda blinks. "This is good news. Very fast, but good news." 

Bucky shrugs. "Sam was just shopping online, so if you wanna, go ahead." 

She does. 

“I want him to feel at home and comfortable,” Wanda says as she searches bedding on her own new laptop. “I want it as personable and cozy as possible.” 

Bucky swallows hard. “I want him comfortable at home, too.” 

She points at a fluffy, red and white floral duvet. “Do you think this is nice?” 

Bucky’s not one to ask about ‘nice things.’ “Wanda, my past beds have been a cot in Wakanda, a sleeping bag in Romania, and an ice chamber. Everything is nice.” 

Wanda considers this, and then she adds it to her cart. 

“Are you going to start looking for things for your room? Don’t you want it to be all there when we move in?” she asks. “Or some clothes at least?” 

Bucky shakes his head. “No. I’m fine with whatever. Just give me whatever is on sale or whatever you think is good.” 

Wanda frowns. “You don’t want to pick anything out for yourself?” 

Bucky bites his lip. “No.” 

He’s not really one to seek out things; he usually takes what others give him and is grateful. He does not beg or choose; he just accepts without complaint. He cares only that it is efficient and or necessary. The Bucky of 1943 might have had preferences about pomade and suits. He might have once had a taste or care for material things. He struggles to adapt that mentality now; a fluffy quilt does not keep him safe nor is it essential to function. A fluffy quilt may be taken from him as punishment…he must never get used to kindness or frivolous, stupid—

“You know it’s okay have soft things,” she says, grabbing his hand, shaking him out of his trance. “You deserve it. You can indulge and seek comfort.” Then she slides the laptop in front of him. “Pick out some bedding, Bucky.” 

He does under her watchful, attentive eye. He selects a blue comforter for a queen sized bed. 

She adds it to the cart. She points at the screen again, and instructs, “Now pick out some sheets.”

*

That afternoon, a doctor takes them aside.

“His uniform is frozen against his skin. We are now in a stage where we can remove the clothing to expedite his ability to warm back up,” she explains. She then looks at the glass they’ve been staring into for the past few days. “For his privacy, we prefer that you are not present for this. We will issue him some new clothing in the meantime.” 

Sam and Wanda agree, but Bucky hesitates. His paranoia won’t allow it. 

He replays moments when he had been defrozen, how ungently they treated his adjusting body. How he once thawed with the mask over his face, and when they tried to take it off, the skin peeled with it. How they would shove him into the chair with his hair still frozen and wet, frying him up. His body, naked and freezing hosed down with scalding water by angry handlers who want him more alert only minutes after he stepped out of the tank. Each uncaring prod and touch burned his raw, cold skin. 

“No,” he says quietly, swallowing a lump in his throat. “I need to make sure he’s okay.” 

Sam starts to try to reason with him, but Wanda gives a knowing look. “I understand,” she tells Bucky. 

The doctor begrudgingly permits it, and Bucky stays in the observation room. He makes sure they don’t hurt him. Don’t try anything. 

He watches them remove and cut away his uniform gently, and a fearful voice in his head begins to quiet. 

Before this, Bucky provided them some of the leisure clothes that Old Steve used to wear before he went back in time. He’d left them in his duffle bag, and Bucky figured that Old Steve couldn’t fit into them anyway.

He watches them fit Steve into the warm clothes, and the voice leaves once he is certain Steve is safe and unharmed.

*

At two in the morning on the third day, Steve’s completely unthawed. He’s not conscious yet, but his body has returned to a healthy temperature and his vitals are working appropriately.

Bucky looks at this Steve, his skin pinking up, his ribs expanding as they breathe in the air of the twenty first century for the first time, and his toes curling like they typically would when he slept. Bucky’s heart warms right up with him. 

Since he’s stable, the doctors move him into a standard hospital room where Sam, Bucky, and Wanda can visit. It’s still secured as hell, but Bucky’s refuses to leave Steve’s side as he sleeps. 

He goes to the bathroom after Wanda insists on taking one of his ‘shifts’ and he cries. It’s not that he’s just sad; he’s overwhelmed with joy and love. At the same time, he’s also heartbroken and devastated. There’s a Steve Rogers waking up in the other room, and there’s a Steve Rogers that left him behind in this world existing at the same time. Bucky figures if two different Steves can coexist in a timeline, maybe it’s okay for his emotions to overlap as sporadically as they do.

*

Steve wakes up at three in the afternoon.

“Buck?” he croaks, sitting up. His eyes are wide, and he looks so bewildered. So soft. Bucky loves him. "Bucky?" 

And, even though he’d had a planned speech for this moment, Bucky’s tongue-tied. All he can manage is, “Yeah, Steve. It’s me. I’m so happy to see you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up: Bucky breaks it down for Steve. Sam and Wanda make sure their new home is ready.
> 
> This chapter was more of a logistics, set up, filler kind of chapter. The emotions are coming back, don't worry!


	3. Chapter 3

*

“What? What’s going on?” Steve demands, backing slightly against the headboard like he’s scared. “What’s happened to you, Buck?”

Bucky keeps his face calm. “A lot, Steve. A lot has happened. I gotta talk to you about it, okay?” 

Steve looks wary, his hands digging into the covers. “Where are we?” 

“New York. In a medical facility.” 

“How long was I out?” Steve asks, eyes flittering to the window. Fuck, they hadn’t drawn the blinds. 

“A long time, Steve,” he says, his voice low. “It’s 2023.” 

Steve’s eyes narrow. “I don’t understand.” 

“There’s a lot that I need to explain to you, but I-” 

He throws the covers off of himself. “This is a hospital room, right? Why am I in here? Am I okay?” he asks, panicking. 

“Hey, hey,” he starts. “Stay in bed. You need to rest. Your body is healing, Steve.” 

“Healing from what?” Steve asks, eyes wide with fear. “What’s happened?” 

Bucky finally rises from the chair he’d been sitting in by Steve’s bed and goes to stand before him. “You’ve been asleep for a while, pal. When you crashed the Valkyrie, you didn’t die. The ice preserved you for the past eighty years, and you’ve been basically hibernating until we found you.” 

“Who’s the ‘we’ that found me?” Steve asks carefully. 

Bucky smiles, “My friends. Your friends. I have a lot to explain.” 

“This isn’t a dream, is it?” Bucky shakes his head, sits on the side of Steve’s bed, and he takes Steve’s hand with his metal one. Steve startles at the touch of the cool Vibranium, and his eyes water. “Can you explain this, first?” 

Bucky gulps, and his eyes start to mist up as well. “You sure you wanna start there?”

Steve nods his head. “Tell me, Buck.” 

Bucky rubs his thumb over Steve’s knuckles. 

He tells Steve.

*

“Steve, it’s not your fault,” he starts, but Steve’s already out of bed and pacing around his room. “Come back to the bed, please.”

“Oh god,” he groans, and he slumps over against the wall. “Bucky, I’m so sorry. If I had known—” 

Bucky goes to him. “It’s not your fault. Please, Steve. It’s not on you.” 

Steve grabs him and clutches him to his chest, breathing hard. “I’m sorry anyways. I’m so sorry. They hurt you. I was sleeping, and they hurt you. Oh, Buck,” he sobs. “Oh, Bucky.” 

Bucky shushes him and rubs his back. “I’m okay, now. That’s what matters.” He lets Steve sniffle before he chugs along, “I still have a lot to tell you, Steve.” 

“I’m not gonna like it, am I?” he asks, swallowing. 

He’s right; he doesn’t like what Bucky tells him next. 

Steve tightens his hold around Bucky, and he breathes hard. “They fucking let Zola into SHIELD? After what happened they let him just join? Did they know you were being held and that Zola was doing things to you?” he shudders and looks like he’s going to be sick. “Tell me they stopped him.” 

Bucky shakes his head. “No. Zola died in the 1990s, and HYDRA kept me until 2014.” 

Steve pulls away a bit to look in him in the eye. “Who stopped them?” 

Bucky looks at him and smiles sadly. “You did.” 

“What? That doesn’t—” Steve starts, and then he looks like he’s going to be sick all over again. “I don’t understand any of this.” 

Bucky isn’t trying to be impatient, but he finally pulls away from Steve’s embrace. “How about I, ugh, power through this all. And then you can ask questions at the end?” 

Steve’s eyebrows furrow. “This isn’t going to be easy, is it?” 

Bucky shakes his head. “When has anything ever been, champ?” 

They move back to the bed, and Bucky sits back in his chair. 

“In 2011, another Steve Rogers was pulled from the ice,” he starts, and Steve already looks ready to object. “And a whole lotta shit happened since.”

*

Bucky rubs at his face. He’s in the bathroom, and he hasn’t really taken a good look at himself since Stark’s funeral. But now, he’s staring right at himself in the mirror, observing and scrutinizing every single imperfection. He looks different, he supposes, compared to the Bucky that fell off the train. Ragged, scarred, and empty.

Steve wanted some time to process everything, and Bucky took it as a quick retreat. Going through everything and retelling it, _reliving it_ hurt. He’s picking at a healing wound, and the Super Soldier Serum doesn’t mend emotional scars. 

He splashes his face with water and leaves the bathroom, and he heads to the cafeteria. Wanda and Sam are sitting in their usual spots, and they share a similar look of fear and worry once they see him. 

“How is he?” Sam asks, offering Bucky part of his muffin. Bucky declines. “How’d he react?” 

“Exactly how you’d think he would,” Bucky offers, and he sits down. “I told him everything. Well, about everything. I’m sure I forgot something. Either way, he’s upset and confused. He wants to meet you both, too.” 

“What all did you get through,” Sam asks. “You were in there for almost two hours.” 

“I didn’t talk much about historical events and pop culture. Mainly just what happened with him and me and you guys. I started with falling off the train and me becoming the Winter Soldier. Then Steve being found in 2011, and all the New York alien shit. Told him about SHIELD and HYDRA. Told him about Berlin, Siberia, and the Sokovia Accords. Then about Wakanda and us being fugitives. The Snap and the five years probably could have been told better, but I can’t fill him in on five years when I don’t even know what happened completely.” 

“You told him about the other Steve?” Wanda asks quietly. “And about Peggy?” 

Bucky nods and frowns. “He’s upset about that as well. Very confused and upset.” 

Wanda sips her tea. “I can go talk to him if that might help.”

“He wants to be alone right now, Max,” he says. 

Recently, he’s taken to calling started Wanda “Max” as a nickname based off her last name. She found it very amusing, and she accepts the name with pride. Only Bucky can call her Max. 

Wanda sighs. “Okay.” 

Sam coughs into his hand. “I told the others about him waking up. Gave Pepper an update about us finding him, getting the house, and thanked her for the BlackCard. Clint and Bruce want to visit him. I don’t know if he’s ready for that.” 

Bucky doesn’t offer an answer because he doesn’t have one. He slumps further into his seat, and he closes his eyes. He figures he hasn’t slept since they moved Steve to the new room a day ago, and when he drifts off, he doesn’t even dream.

*

Wanda shakes him awake gently. “Hey,” she says, and she offers him some coffee. “I’m going to go to the house with Sam.”

He sits up blearily. “How long was I out?” he mutters, scrubbing his face. 

“Only a few hours. I got to talk to Steve,” she says, smiling. “He’s very sweet.” 

“What happened?” 

Wanda nods. “I had a little session with Steve; I showed him some of the past. Not a vision, just a...sharing of memories? That made it easier for him to understand what’s happened when he could see it.” 

“Sam’s with him now?” Bucky asks, standing up. 

“Mhm. We’re going to head to Brooklyn for the night since the deliveries and movers are coming in the morning. Hopefully by tomorrow night we’ll be all moved in, and we’ll have a home.” 

Bucky nods. “I’ll stay with him tonight.” 

“Okay,” she says like she’d already known it. He walks with her to Steve’s room where he’s resting in the bed, and Sam’s in the chair next to him. Steve’s smiling, and Sam’s showing him something on his phone. 

“And you basically can listen to music anywhere and anytime,” Sam finishes. “I made you a list of songs to listen to. There’s some films, too. But we’ll get there later.” 

Steve smiles when he sees Bucky. Bucky smiles back. 

Sam rises and hooks a thumb over his shoulder. “Well, it’s great meeting you Steve. Wanda and I are going to go to our new house in Brooklyn. Bucky here’s gonna keep you company.” 

Wanda and Sam leave, and Bucky takes the chair by Steve’s bed. They sit in silence for a while, and then Steve grabs his hand. “We made it,” he says softly, squeezing Bucky’s hand. “We’re here. In the future.” 

He squeezes his hand right back. “Yeah, pal. We’re here.” 

A nurse comes in and checks on him. There’d been concern that his muscles would atrophy and that his skin would not react well under sunlight, but for now they’re certain the serum’s been able to keep him healthy for the extra eleven years and that he’ll be fine. 

When she leaves, Bucky pulls out his own phone. “We can watch movies on our phones, too. I’m sure Sam showed you. It’s like a movie theater, dance hall, and a phone in one device.” 

“Did Stark make this?” he asks, eyebrows raised. “His son, I mean?” 

“Sorta. There’s other phones, but we have special ones. For security reasons. But yeah, Stark’s son programmed it, but he used similar features from other phones.” 

“What about flying cars?” Steve asks, mouth tilting upwards. 

Bucky shakes his head. “Nope. But, there’s spaceships and suits made of metal that fly. But no flying cars that I’m aware of.” 

“This is all so much,” Steve whispers. 

“I know it is,” Bucky tells him. He puts his phone away. “It’s a lot. But this new world, Steve, is so different in ways that are good. People treat each other nicer in this century. The world’s grown and created and just…,” he struggles to articulate it. “When you died, so to speak, you saved so many lives, and it was not in vain. Here’s the world you helped create, Steve. A world that wouldn’t exist without you.” 

Steve’s eyes glisten. “What about the Other Me?” 

Bucky shrugs his shoulders and sighs. “That’s...I’m still figuring all of that out myself.” 

“I didn’t, no _he_ didn’t want to stay here. With you? Or Sam or Wanda? He didn’t want to live in the world he helped save?” 

Bucky sighs. “No. He didn’t.” 

Steve exhales. “I want to meet this Other Me.” 

They sit in silence for a while. Bucky’s not sure what to say. 

He clears his throat after a while. “This house that Sam and Wanda are moving into... there’s room for you. And me. But, there’s a room for you there if you want it.” 

Steve smiles. “Of course I want it. Do you want me there, too?” 

“Yeah, pal. I do,” he says softly. 

Steve nods his head. “So, we’re moving to Brooklyn and living together. What else is new?” he teases. 

“It’s not the same Brooklyn, I’m assuming. I haven’t been there since the night I shipped out. We’ll go explore it together.” 

“I look forward to that,” Steve tells him. “Can you show me this new house on your phone? Can it do that, too?” 

“Yeah, it can,” Bucky says, and he turns his phone back on. He pulls up the address and gives the phone to Steve.

“Huh,” Steve says, and Bucky shows him how to flip through the images with his finger. “Wow.”

“I know,” he agrees, and he settles back into the chair while Steve goes through the photos. 

“Better than that old apartment we shared, huh?” Steve muses. 

“Mhm,” Bucky agrees, and they share a smile again. 

“You know, we never got to watch that movie the night before you shipped out,” Steve surmises with a small grin. 

“Yeah, you were too busy getting your tiny ass handed to you in an alley,” Bucky says with a laugh. “I’d been so confused because when I walked into the theater, I kept looking around for you, but you were nowhere to be seen. Figured out pretty quick that you probably hadn’t snuck off with some girl, and I had to go search for you outside.” 

“Do you even remember what we were supposed to watch?” Steve asks, teasingly. 

Bucky scoffs fondly. “Pal, I’ve been itching to see Betty Grable in _Coney Island_ ever since I paid for a ticket and never even got to see it.” 

“Think that phone of yours could change that?” Steve looks pointedly at the device. 

Bucky smiles, and he searches for it on his phone. He finds it. “Ugh,” he starts, not sure where to hold the phone so the both of them could see the screen. 

“Here,” Steve insists, and he scoots to make room for Bucky to sit next to him. 

Bucky settles in and holds the phone up for them. The room’s already pretty dark, so it’s easy to watch on the device.

“Who'd've thought,” Steve begins as the production titles flash on the screen. “We’d be seeing this eighty years later?” 

“You’d be amazed by what will surprise you, champ,” Bucky says, and they quiet up and watch.

Steve dozes off fifteen minutes after the closing credits roll, and Bucky climbs off the bed, glad his metal arm can’t fall asleep after it’d been holding still for a good while. He turns his phone off of ‘do not disturb’ and reads some updates from Sam and Wanda. 

He steps out of the room to use the restroom down the hall. This time, when he looks in the mirror, he’s not glaring at himself. He texts Sam and Wanda an update as he walks back. 

Back in Steve’s room, he pauses at the doorway. There’s a doctor drawing blood from a sleeping Steve’s arm, and Bucky’s alarms go off. He’s never seen this particular doctor before, and the fact Steve’s still sleeping is perturbing. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, voice thick and sharp. 

The doctor startles a bit and looks at him. “Taking another blood sample,” he says simply. Like it’s obvious. 

“Why.” He clenches his fists. 

The doctor acts puzzled. “I’m afraid I don’t understand—”

“Why are you getting a blood sample? He hasn’t had a blood sample taken before, so why now?” Bucky demands, and blooming feeling in his gut, a feeling that is right more often than not, tells him that something is very wrong and that he needs to handle it. 

The doctor sputters, like Bucky’s the one acting strangely and retorts, “It would be unethical if I disclosed private information about my patient.” 

Bucky narrows his eyes. “Can I see your credentials, then?” he asks. 

The doctor furrows his brow, and he removes the needle, “Is that necessary?” he asks, like he’s offended as he secures the sample and presses on Steve’s skin with cotton gauze. Steve still doesn’t flinch or move. 

Bucky swallows. “Yes, I’m afraid it is.” 

They stare at each other for a tense moment before the doctor sighs. “Fine, just let me wrap up his arm,” he insists, and he does just that. Bucky watches as he wraps the extraction point around with sterile tape and the doctor gripes, “This is absurd.” 

“Humor me,” Bucky says as he finishes dressing Steve’s arm. 

The doctor checks the sample, and then he turns to face Bucky. He pats on his coat, looking for his identification. “Now, let me see where did I—” and Bucky’s already in a defensive stance when the doctor’s hand moves inside his coat. 

He barks, “Nope, keep your hands—” but the doctor’s already got a gun pressed against Bucky’s stomach. 

“Winter Soldier, it would be best if you stepped aside.” 

Bucky internally rolls his eyes. “Really?” he asks, almost tiredly. 

The doctor removes the safety. “Yes.” 

Bucky doesn’t step aside. 

After the doctor’s on the floor writhing in pain with his cyanide tooth pulverized between Bucky’s metal fist, Bucky calls for medical assistance with the buzzer by Steve's bed. He checks for a pulse from Steve, and he sighs in relief when he determines Steve’s still breathing. 

Some nurses and doctors come sprinting into the room, and Bucky’s already got some other help on the way.

* 

“How are there still HYDRA agents after all of this?” Wanda ponders, blowing into her tea. She’s sitting in the chair by Steve’s side, and Bucky shrugs his shoulders from his spot against the wall.

“Many insurgent and terrorist groups emerged after Thanos’s Snap five years ago,” Clint states simply, looking out the window. “Some were disgruntled that their loved ones vanished, and others saw it as an opportunity to harvest the grief into a weapon. Some just harbored anger towards the Avengers and the governments that failed to prevent the Snap, and they wanted revenge in a misguided, twisted way. And, regardless of world catastrophes, assholes and shitheads are always going to exist and thrive.” 

“Huh,” Wanda says, and she takes a sip. 

Helen Cho enters the room with a tablet. “The sedative the operative administered should wear off by morning. Captain Rogers will be fine, but he will probably feel symptoms similar to that of a hangover tomorrow.” She clicks off the tablet. “I’ve never seen this drug cocktail before, but its potency is off the charts. It’s enough to tranquilize five elephants.” 

Bucky grimaces and stares at the floor.

Helen continues, “All in all, he’s in superb shape. The serum appears to have kept his body functioning well for the past decades. I'll keep an eye on him tomorrow to make sure this incident won't cause long-term effects. If everything's fine, I'm sure he'll be ready to be discharged.” She shows herself out after recording Steve’s temperature on her chart and bidding everyone a good night. 

Bucky blinks and keeps staring at his shoes.

Wanda insists, “Don’t blame yourself, Bucky.” 

Professor Hulk, sitting on top of a stretcher as a makeshift seat that he can fit in, adds, “Yeah, it’s not your fault. No one’s gonna try anything else now, that’s for sure.” 

Bucky bites inside of his cheek. He changes the subject, “Sam’s holding the fort down okay?” 

Wanda nods. “Yes. You can go to Brooklyn if you’d like? I can stay the night here,” she offers. “Bruce and Clint will stand guard with me.” 

Bucky shakes his head. “No, I should stay.” 

Wanda smiles softly. “Okay.”

*

Steve wakes up the next morning, but he doesn’t show any signs of lethargy or pain. Bucky fills him in on what had transpired while the others went to breakfast in the hospital cafeteria. Steve takes it rather well.

“So, the cyanide tooth remained a constant tool for HYDRA, huh?” he muses.

Bucky shrugs. “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” he guesses. 

Steve smiles at him. “They’re gonna let me leave here some time today?” he asks. 

“By tonight, yes,” Bucky tells him. “We should be settled into the new place by then anyway. Mrs. Potts is also having a security system set up for us.” 

Steve nods. “I’m not sure if I’m ready to see this new world just yet. But a part of me can’t wait.” 

Bucky takes his hand. “I’ll be with you every step of the way, pal. I’ll be taking it in right along with you.” 

The rest of the day goes slowly. Clint introduces himself to Steve, and Bucky leaves them to have a private conversation. Around noon, Professor Hulk meets with Steve. 

After she woke up and Bucky assured her things were fine, Wanda headed back to their new townhouse to start settling everything in with Sam. They’re using the BlackCard at Pepper’s insistence for the movers. 

At lunch, Sam facetimes him to show him Wanda using her red strings of energy to move the furniture around when she’s not happy with where it’s been put. 

“The rooms are about the same, except for the Master,” Sam says, taking Bucky on a quick tour. “I figured we should give Wanda the Master bedroom.” 

“How chivalrous,” Bucky remarks. 

“It’s too late either way; she’s already got most of her stuff in there already. If you wanna challenge it, be it on your head,” Sam says with a laugh. “And, this is your room.” 

The bed has already been put together, and the blue comforter and the other beddings Wanda supervised him purchasing have already been made up. The other furniture Wanda assisted him in picking out is all over the place. “We’ll let you figure out where to put everything, but for the time being, your room is a mess.” 

“Thanks,” Bucky says. “Show me Steve’s room.”

“It’s right across from yours,” Sam says, and the camera shakes as he walks over. 

It’s a modest bedroom. His window faces the avenue, and Bucky makes a mental note to make sure to move the desk by the window so Steve can people-watch and sketch. He and Wanda picked out his room’s design, and it’s similar to Bucky’s muted minimalism. 

“He’ll like it,” Bucky says, with a nod. “He can dress it up when he wants. But it looks good for now.” 

After the video tour finishes, Bucky goes back to Steve’s room with a tray from the cafeteria filled with food. Bruce is still in there, talking animatedly to Steve about some scientific principle concerning The Hulk. 

He raps his knuckles on the doorway. “Brought you some lunch,” he says, and Steve sits up as Bucky puts the tray in his lap. 

Bruce laughs and comments, “I just realized all of the super-serumed people are in the room. Isn’t that something?” he says. 

“Yeah,” Steve says. He locks eyes with Bucky. “It sure is.”

*

Clint and Bruce leave before dinner, and Bucky spends the rest of the evening watching newer films on his phone. He recounts to Steve that films aren’t as tame or restrained as they were in the forties, and Steve wanted to see for himself. They watch an action movie on Bucky’s Netflix account, and Steve’s eyes are wide with awe the entire time.

Helen personally discharges Steve just before the sun sets, and Pepper’s already sent Happy to drive them to Brooklyn. Steve spends the car ride mostly in silence, staring out the window to absorb the bright new city that passes by him, mouth open in disbelief and amazement. 

They arrive at their new home, and Sam and Wanda wait for them at the door. Wanda’s prepared a Sokovian dessert in the new kitchen, and they all toast to their new home with new champagne glasses. 

Sam gives Bucky and Steve a tour before showing them to their rooms. The rooms are still in minor disarray; the furniture is assembled in the center of the room, waiting to be positioned. 

Steve sits down on his new bed. Bucky had gotten him a fluffy red navy quilt from the same website he’d gotten his own. Steve smooths out the covers and looks around his room. “Whaddya say, Buck? Wanna help me figure this all out?” 

Bucky nods. “Sure.” 

They haul and shift the room around for a good hour before moving to Bucky’s room to do that same thing. It’s easy to move furniture when you lift it up with one hand. By the end of the night, they’re comfortably settled in. Wanda and Sam had been sure to stock up their bathrooms with toiletries and their wardrobes with folded clothes.

*

They all settle into 2023. Steve, Bucky, Wanda, and Sam go explore New York, and they fill their home up with more personal trinkets and decorations along the way. Steve buys himself a sketch pad, and Wanda purchases a guitar. They watch the city as it comes back to life after five years of disharmony.

Steve and Bucky go on runs together while Sam struggles to keep up. Wanda invites Bucky to attend yoga with her to help loosen the tension caused by his shoulder. Steve and Bucky visit museums and parks. Wanda considers taking some psychology classes at a local college, and Sam offers assistance at centers supporting veterans. Sam also gently encourages Steve and Bucky to consider therapy, and Wanda starts seeing a counselor herself to help her cope with recent losses. 

They all eat meals together. Lunches are usually for trying ‘new’ dining experiences so Steve and Bucky can get a taste of how much better food is in this new century. Dinners are made at home where Wanda and Bucky whip up a meal using their fancy new appliances to eat at their (also) fancy dinner table. 

Sam, true to his word, created a list of films Bucky and Steve just _had to_ watch. They spend evenings scratching films off that list, sprawled out on their comfy sectional couch, chewing popcorn, and drinking beers and wine.

Bucky sleeps easily in his bed, knowing his house is secured with a state-of-the-art system, knowing that his friends are warm in their beds, and knowing that he has a family now that enjoys his company...that cares about him. 

He’s felt this magnetic pull towards Steve ever since they moved in and started spending time together. Steve’s soft smiles, lingering touches, and warm presence only serve to make Bucky want him even more. 

Bucky wants to take it to a new level. He wants to bare his soul and tell Steve how he feels. But he’s not sure if it’s the right time. Steve’s still getting used to this new world, and Bucky’s still reeling back from Old Steve’s decisions. 

He’s certain he loves this Steve just as much as he once loved the man Old Steve was. But he needs time, he figures, to be sure. 

And then he gets a voicemail. 

It’s been one month since he brought Steve to their new home. He and Steve went on a long, aimless walk together, and Bucky sat with him on a bench in the park while Steve drew in his new sketchbook. They ate lunch together in a cozy booth at an Italian restaurant, and he caught Steve’s eyes on him more times than he could count. That night, Sam and Steve prepared supper, and they all watched a comedy from the eighties that had Steve clutching at his chest in laughter and Bucky admittedly found it funnier than he’d assumed. 

And then right as he’s crawling into bed, he gets a voicemail. Well, initially a phonecall. It’s a number he doesn’t recognize, so he doesn’t answer. When he gets an alert to the voicemail, his heart drops the second he hears it play. 

It’s Old Steve. 

He contemplates deleting it before he listens. Instead, he heads out to the patio and slumps down in one of the chaises and hits the play button once again. 

“Buck,” Old Steve starts, and it still kills him that he sounds so much like Steve but still so worn and tired. “It’s me. I got your phone number from FRIDAY, and I just wanted to say that we should talk. In person. I live in New York, and I’ve heard that you do now as well. If we could meet, and I could explain things to you...it would mean so much to me. It devastates me that we’re not talking.” He coughs. “And, I want to hear about the me you found a few weeks ago. God, Buck I just want to talk to you. It’s one of the things I missed the most after I went back. I missed talking to you, and I miss it now. Please just let me—” 

Bucky hits the stop button, and he flips the phone onto its front so he doesn’t have to look at it. He covers his hand over his eyes, and he feels a hot tear daring to spill from his eye. “Fuck,” he croaks. “Fuck.” 

He closes his eyes tight, and he clenches his fists together so he doesn’t end up ripping up the cushions by mistake. 

After a minute of failing to compose himself, he finishes the message. “—talk to you. I told you I love you Buck, and I mean it. I do love you, after all this time. It hurts me that I hurt you. I realize that going back means that we...look, just let me talk to you, alright?” He laughs hoarsely. “You know how stubborn I get, pal. I haven’t stopped thinking about what you said to me in the driveway the morning I came back, and I just think it’d be best if I could explain everything. I know I have a lot to apologize and explain for. To Wanda, Sam, everyone. But I want to start with you. Please, Buck. Call me back at this number when you can. I love you. Goodnight.” Bucky wipes at his eyes, and he sadistically replays the message from the beginning to listen to it again. 

There’s a soft rap against the patio door, and Wanda slides it open. “Can I come sit with you?” 

Bucky nods, and Wanda slides the door all the way open. She then turns back inside and comes back with two steaming mugs in her hand. She hands one to Bucky, and then leaves one for herself on the table. Then she closes the door shut, and she turns on the radio softly. She’s considerate like that: bringing him a hot drink and turning on some music in case someone wanted to strain to listen. She’s in her night clothes, and she’s wrapped in a light blanket. It’s a cool evening, not boiling hot. September is one of those months where it’s like a coin flip; either it’s blisteringly hot or just the right kind of warm. 

“How’d you know?” Bucky asks, almost embarrassedly. “That I was upset.” 

“I could sense your distress,” she says. “Are you okay?” she asks quietly, folding her legs under herself on the opposite chaise. “I should have asked you before to talk about how you’re doing, and I’m sorry I’ve waited so long. I worry about you.” She grabs her mug and blows on it. 

Bucky does the same. She’s made him some hot chocolate, and the little white marshmallows are already foamy. He takes a sip, so his answer can simmer. Wanda gives off this easing, trusting presence that inclines Bucky to be honest. He’s used to holding back, downplaying his emotions because he resents being a burden. But Wanda is genuine. She’s family. 

Besides, she can sense emotions. She can probably figure out if he’s stretching the truth. 

“I don’t know how to explain it,” he starts, staring at the ground. “I’m so happy we got this Steve back from the ice. We’ve all started this little family that I never would thought I could have. I’m happier than I feel I deserve. Steve and I are getting along better than I could have hoped for, and it’s been so great being here with you and Sam. Yet, I still feel angry and so fucking sad. Our Steve left us behind, Max.” 

Wanda takes his metal hand, and she squeezes it. “I know. It hurts me, too.” 

“He lived an entire life without me, Max. He lived an entire goddamn life without me or you or any of us, and he seems perfectly happy about it.” He sniffs and wipes at his face. “I used to think I wouldn’t be able to imagine a life without him in it. I guess the feeling wasn’t mutual.”

Wanda peers out at the horizon in front of them. “Do you wish you went with him? To the past?” 

Bucky shakes his head. “Part of me wishes I went. So I could go with him and be with him. But then I remember we couldn’t have had the relationship I would have wanted. Not in that time period. The other part of me thinks if I had gone with him, he’d still leave me behind somehow. I’d be a third wheel. He’d have a family, and I’d...I’m not sure I would fit well in the early 1950s. Metal arm and what not.” Bucky rubs his metal thumb against his forefinger. “I wonder if he visited my family.” 

Wanda gasps softly.

Bucky’s getting angrier. “I wonder if he looked my mother in the eye and lied to her.” He exhales heavily. “My ma would have been a great interrogator if she’d been given the chance. I can see her questioning him about me. What happened in Europe during the war. I can see Steve telling her that I died falling off the train, and all the while, he knows in the back of his mind that I’m not dead. But, he looks at my ma and my sisters and tells them a lie. To their faces.” 

Wanda bites the inside of her cheek. “Would you have preferred that they would know?” 

Bucky shakes his head. “No. I’m glad they never knew. If he told them, they woulda raised hell and make him go get me. Shame him for taking so long. But we both know Steve wouldn’t have done that. No one shamed him into getting me, so he carried on. It hurts to think he never did it on his own conscience.”

“Do you think his wife knew?” 

Bucky shrugs. “I don’t know. He must not have told her anything. Had she known HYDRA was in her own damn agency, she woulda stopped it. But that never happened, so it’s safe to assume he lied to his own wife for decades as well.” 

Wanda sighs. She squeezes his hand again, and they look at the city around them. “Our Steve, the one with us, he loves you. You know this, yes?” she offers quietly. 

Bucky nods. 

“You loved the Steve that left us, as well?” 

He nods again, and he scrubs at his face. “I did.” 

“You’re afraid to love our Steve. You’re scared that you’ve projected your desire towards the other Steve onto him. You’re scared you’re moving too fast, desiring more than you should,” she states. Bucky’s now positive that she can read minds, or in the very least, translates whatever indecipherable emotions he emits into articulate language. 

He swallows heavy. “Yeah.” 

Wanda tugs his hand, and he looks at her. Her eyes are wet as well, but she smiles at him. “You love our Steve so strongly it sometimes gives me headache,” she says. “Never doubt your love and affection to him. Your anger and resentment towards the other Steve may never subside, but that doesn’t mean the love you feel for our Steve is not strong. Feelings are expansive, _flexible_. They may be confusing, yes, but they are true.” 

Bucky sniffs, and he feels his cheeks go hot. “I want to tell him. I want to show him. I want to, but I'm scared,” he says. "I'm fucking scared of telling him how I feel." 

Wanda squeezes his hand. “It's okay to be scared, Bucky,” she tells him, "but don't let this fear rule you forever." 

Bucky drinks from his mug, and his hand isn't shaking like it had been before. “It feels good to cry and talk it out." 

Wanda smiles. “It does.” She adjusts her blanket and takes a sip from her mug. “What caused you to come out here, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

“The other Steve sent me a voicemail. He wants to talk and explain things to me.” 

Wanda frowns. “Do you want to talk to him?” 

Bucky shrugs. “I hate how he drains me. He hogs my feelings, Max. I just want to move on, but then I think talking to him one last time might offer closure. I don’t want to meet him because I feel I owe it to him, but rather because it might help me get over him. Once and for all, let me close the book. He made his choice, Max. He decided to live a whole life without us, and I should get to do the same. Talking to him will hurt, yeah, but it might allow me to rip off the bandage, too.” 

“I’ll be here for you either way,” Wanda tells him. “And so will Sam and our Steve. We’re family, Bucky.” 

They hug and finish their drinks, staring out at the city bustling around them. Wanda takes their mugs after they’re finished, and he locks up the patio door. He walks her back to the Master on the top floor, and he walks down to his own bedroom on the third floor. 

Bucky settles back into his bed, feeling lighter and relieved from his talk with Wanda. He considers what she said, about loving Steve regardless of what Old Steve and he experienced. He tosses and turns, thinking about Steve sleeping in the other room while Bucky’s simmering over something he already knows. 

With a sudden, stunning clarity, he sits up. He loves Steve. Steve loves him. They’re in the future, living together, and exploring this new century together. They’re two men out of time, and they’re two men so stupidly and hopelessly in love with each other that it gives Wanda Maximoff a fucking headache. They’re not in the forties or on a battlefield. Finally, they can _try_.

He kicks out of bed, hustles out of his room, and knocks on Steve’s door.

It’s taken Steve eighty years to get here, to catch up to him in the future, and Bucky’s not going to let it be another eighty of them dancing around their feelings towards each other, waiting for someone to make the first move. 

(Bucky’s not sure he has _that_ much time, but he’d rather not wait any longer anyway.) 

“Yeah?” comes from inside, and Bucky lets himself in. 

Wordlessly, he sits himself against the headboard right next to Steve. 

Steve just watches him. He’s in his pajamas, reading a book with a beer on his bedside table. He raises a brow, waiting for Bucky to explain. 

“Everything okay?” he asks, but he doesn’t look worried. He's confused. “Buck, is something up?” His feet are little nervous mounds moving under the covers. 

Bucky looks him in the eye. He’s not nervous, no. Nor is he embarrassed. He doesn’t feel like blushing either. He’s pulled triggers with worse consequences than a confession of love. 

So he admits it. 

“I love you,” he says without qualms. “I love you, and I want you. All of you. Everywhere. Constantly.” 

Steve is frozen in place, the book’s page half turned. “Um.” 

He stares at Steve, waiting calmly for him to respond more articulately. 

Steve unfreezes, tosses the book aside, and puts a hand behind his neck to rub it. “Buck, I, jeez, I love you. I love you, too. I just, you know, didn’t wanna rush...and I mean this doesn’t change anything I hope. You’re my best friend.” 

Buck’s sharpens his eyes. He needs clarification. “So you love me as a friend?” 

Steve blushes. “Yeah, but I love you _that_ way, too.” 

God, he’s so vague. “And _‘that’_ way meaning?” 

Steve hits his head against his headboard. “Buck, you’re so direct, fuck. But god, yes I love you romantically, too. But, like I said, I just didn’t wanna risk—” 

Buck sits up straighter. “Good. I’m gonna take you out tomorrow night. Dinner and a picture.” 

Steve’s blush deepens. “Really? You’re sure?” 

Bucky scoots in closer to Steve. He gets in close, almost like they could touch each other’s nose. “Yeah, bud. I’m sure. It took us a century to admit how we feel. Didn’t feel like waiting much longer.” 

Steve’s mouth drops into an O. Bucky just smiles at him, hopelessly enamored. He feels like a million bucks. Like he could walk on fucking clouds. 

“Okay,” Steve says, and he beams at Bucky so brightly. It makes his heart burst. 

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Buck says, and he kisses Steve on the forehead. 

He rises, but Steve whips his hand out to stop him. “So we’re gonna go steady, now. Okay. But, we’re still gonna be fine?” 

Buck sits back down, and his smile makes Steve blush. “I’m gonna wake up tomorrow morning and go for a run with you. We’ll still stop for bagels and eat in our usual spot. For lunch we can go eat somewhere with a bunch of TVs so we can watch a football game. Sam will probably root for the opposing team just to make fun, and Wanda will join him to make things even. And then, later, I’m gonna take you out to get a nice dinner, and we’ll go see a picture. I’ll walk us home and give you a kiss goodnight. And that’ll be that. Whatever else happens, happens. I’ll still be your best friend even if I dote on you and kiss on you.”

Steve nods. “I’d like that.” 

“I’d like that, too,” he says, sincerely. If he could rip open his chest to somehow expose his soul to Steve he would. But maybe baby-steps will do the job just fine. 

Because he really does mean it. He wants Steve-and-Bucky to be a new normal. That maybe, soon, when they’re ready, he’ll wake up in bed with Steve instead alone. And when they watch games, he can put his arm over his shoulders and share a beer. They can go on strolls instead of runs. They can hold hands. They can be so obnoxiously smitten with each other that Sam will tease them mercilessly to hell and back about it while Wanda observes sappily. They can maybe move to a new home together and have Sam and Wanda visit them. They can have a life together. 

He moves to stand up again, but Steve won’t let go of his hand. 

“Buck?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Can I have that kiss goodnight now?” 

Bucky nods and leans over him. He wants it to be a good first kiss, so he doesn’t rush it, just like he rushed everything else. He cups one cheek with his warm hand and tilts his chin up with his metal one. Steve’s already closed his eyes, his lips open and waiting. Their noses bump so Bucky changes his angle and then...oh. 

It’s a nice first kiss. Their mouths are closed and it’s conservative, really. Steve sighs, and he tugs Bucky closer to him with an arm around his shoulder. Bucky’s heart is so heavy and full. It’s a kiss worth waiting eighty years to have. Steve sighs against his mouth all sweet, and Bucky loves him. He really loves him. 

He pulls away to catch his breath, and they rests their foreheads against each other’s. 

“You’re gorgeous, y’know,” he says, softly. Steve couldn’t be any more red than he is right now. “Goodnight, Steve.” 

“Goodnight, Buck.” 

Buck himself might be blushing. He can feel the heat on his cheeks, and the pressure of Steve’s lips lingers. 

As he leaves the room, he turns. “I love you,” he says, hand on the door. 

“I love you,” Steve says back, almost dreamily. He’s slumped down into his bed, languid. Not as stiff as he was when he’d walked in earlier. “I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve's [draft card from _The First Avenger_](https://dygtyjqp7pi0m.cloudfront.net/i/12024/12119862_2.jpg?v=8CEC912471BFEF0) would confirm that Bucky's last day with Steve in Brooklyn would be June 14 1943. _Coney Island_ an aptly named film starring Betty Grable was released in [ June 11, 1943 ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coney_Island_\(1943_film\)) and was one of Fox's biggest hits of the year. It can be guessed that this feature is what Steve and Bucky were planning to watch (and may be why the theater goer that beat up Steve was so adamant to see the film already because Betty Grable probably is more appealing than some newsreels.) 
> 
> I apologize for late update, so I hope this longer chapter will make up for it!


	4. Chapter 4

* 

When he wakes up the next morning, he feels loose and easy.

He’s taking Steve out tonight. Oh wow. 

Bucky does a quick search on his phone for some fancy Brooklyn restaurants and decides on one with an expensive fixed-price menu and wine-pairing, cozy atmosphere, and required jacket policy. 

He doubts the chance of getting a reservation the morning of— granted the host believes he is who he says he is— but he still calls. Apparently, having close connections to the Avengers means a booked restaurant suddenly finds an extra table very conveniently. He’s technically not even an Avenger or a hero really, but association alone had the host insisting a table for two could be arranged. 

Bucky heads downstairs, and Wanda’s drinking her coffee. She throws a knowing smile his way. She chirps a cheery, “Good morning.” 

He pours himself a cup. “You’re up early, Max.” 

She shrugs and bats her eyelashes. “I got a headache last night. Can you believe that?” He can see her smug smile over the lip of her mug. “I wonder what caused that.” 

“Huh,” he offers. "I've got no idea."

She gives up the ruse. “You did it, didn’t you? Where are you taking him?” she asks, almost excitedly. Bucky tells her, and she about bursts. “I’m so happy for you.” 

Bucky feels bashful, almost shy. “Yeah. I’m gonna have to go, ugh, buy a jacket. Maybe a sports coat.” 

She laughs. “You still don’t have a suit?” 

“What if it isn't able to fit my arm?” He waves said metal arm. “But, if you wanna come with me to look around—" 

“Yes!” she agrees. “I have to make sure you don’t just buy a leather jacket as though it’s the same thing.” 

“It technically is a jacket,” he remarks, but Wanda rolls her eyes. 

“So, it’s not like black-tie, but you wanna look nice?” she continues. “I’ve just realized I’ve never seen you dressed up.” 

“Well, today’s your lucky day.” 

“What ‘picture’ is showing that you wanna go see?” she adds. “You’re gonna go see a movie in your suits?” 

Bucky considers that. “Well, we could probably just come back here and watch something.” 

Wanda honest-to-god cackles. “Do I need to make sure Sam and I will be out?” 

Bucky sputters. “No! We’ll just watch something on the couch. You can probably join if you want.” 

“Yeah, uh huh, sure,” she deadpans. “I definitely want to be a third wheel while you Netflix and Chill.” 

“What does that even m—” he starts, but he stops when a faint alarm upstairs begins beeping. 

“Oh shit!” Sam yelps, and there’s a quiet crash. “I’m good!” 

“What’s happening?” Wanda calls up to him, frowning. 

Sam’s in his pajamas and sprinting down the stairs with the suitcase that holds his nano-enhanced suit, wings, and shield. “Gotta go.” He rushes into the kitchen, and he snatches Bucky’s mug from his hand. Bucky sighs but allows it. “It’s small though, so don’t worry. Just gonna be me and Rhodes flying in. Gotta meet with him at the Tower first.” He starts chugging what had been Bucky’s coffee like a frat bro shotgunning a beer. “God, you drink yours black?” he grimaces, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “ _Willingly?”_

“Yep. What was that crash?” Bucky asks. Sam hands him back his emptied mug, and Bucky refills it. 

Sam searches through the pantry for a box of granola bars. “I, uh, fell out of bed.” 

“Nice.” 

Sam’s too preoccupied to be embarrassed. He stuffs an entire granola bar into his mouth like a chipmunk. With his mouth full, he garbles, “I shouldn’t be long.” 

“Do you know what’s going on?” Bucky asks, and Sam takes his coffee again. Bucky rolls his eyes. 

Sam washes down his bar with the coffee. “Not really. I’m gonna get briefed there then head out.” 

"Huh," Bucky says.

Another beep goes off on his phone. “Alright, car’s here. I’ll text you guys when I’m on my way back!” 

“You’re not gonna change?” Bucky calls to him while Wanda shouts, "Be safe, Sam!"

“Gonna change in the car! Bye!” Sam yells back, and he heads down to the front door. It closes with a slam. 

Steve bolts down the stairs only seconds later. “What just happened?” He’s got rooster hair and some lines from his pillow still on his cheek. 

“Sam headed out. He’ll let us know when he’s coming back,” Bucky tells him. 

Steve may be newly awaken, but this man is still Steve Fucking Rogers. He’s got a pinch between his eyebrows and a jut to his jaw. “Do I need to go, too?” 

Because, the thing is… this Steve never gave away the Shield. But he hasn’t asked for it back, either. One of the first things Sam told the newly awake Steve is that the Other Steve passed the mantle to him. If this new Steve wanted it, Sam would understand. Yet, Steve didn’t appear too bummed about it. He congratulated Sam and was excited to watch videos that Sam (obviously) had on his phone of him as the Falcon, swooping through the air. 

“A flying Captain America,” Steve said in awe, like he almost didn’t believe it. 

But, even without a shield or title, Steve was still Steve Rogers. He wanted to fight, to help, and to rise up to the challenge when he was needed. It was so salient to his identity; his perpetual urge to help made Bucky fall for him in the first place. Steve wants to fight, doesn’t like to sit by. He’s got a heart of gold and a desire to serve. That’s something Bucky wishes he could have. 

Bucky resigned himself long ago to always fight when asked because that was his purpose for so long, his gift, and what he was good at. It would be the right thing to do. If Steve Rogers needed him, Bucky Barnes would stand at attention. He might not _want_ to fight, but the world has never cared about what he wants or needs. Yada yada something about how The Summer Soldiers may run off when the going gets tough, but The Winter Soldiers carry on with their duty, something like that. 

Yet, he indulges in this new bliss: this new period where he’s not needed or wanted, really. There are more powerful and effective enhanced individuals now that make him almost...unnecessary. He’s got a knockoff serum and a metal arm. Meanwhile, _just to name a few_ , there’s a space-earth woman who can fly and power through ships like a breeze, Max who can move things with her powers and manipulate the mind, and there’s two people with weaponized suits of armor with an entire artillery. Bucky’s not that special. 

One could argue that Captain America has lackluster abilities compared to who’s available now. But, they’re wrong. 

Captain America is more than his powers. The Winter Soldier is not. 

Wanda shakes her head gently. “No. It’s just gonna be him and Rhodes flying in somewhere.” 

“Yeah, we’re probably more helpful staying out of the way.” 

“Oh,” he says, sagging his shoulders. “Okay.”

“You slept through most of that?” Wanda says to change the topic. “Did you just wake up?” 

Steve looks surprised himself. “Yeah. God, I haven’t slept that hard in what, a century I guess?” 

Wanda purses her lips and gives Bucky a vexing look. “What caused you to sleep so well?” she asks innocently. “Did something happen?” 

Steve turns beet red. “Um, last night...” he offers and looks at Bucky to make sure he can say it. Bucky nods. “Ugh, Buck and I are gonna go out now. We’re going out tonight. On a date. Together.” 

Wanda fakes her surprise. “What? You two?” 

Steve blushes even harder. Bucky wonders if there’s a color you turn that’s even deeper than red. He’s seen Steve’s skin blue from the ice and now red from his blush. Maybe he can turn purple? 

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Enough of that, Max.”

She relents. “You have a suit, Steve?” 

“Like a Captain America suit?” 

“No, like a jacket and slacks. This place he’s taking you is quite ritzy.” 

Steve bites the inside of his cheek. “Could I just borrow the Captain America suit? It should still fit, right?” 

Wanda blinks. “I’m gonna have to take the both of you shopping, aren’t I?” They nod. She sighs. “Alright.” 

“Well, before all that, we’re gonna go on a run. It’s still early; no one’s gonna be open,” Bucky says. He finishes his coffee and smiles at Steve. “I’m gonna get changed. Let’s try to leave in fifteen, okay?” 

Steve nods and smiles back. Almost shyly, like they have a secret. Wanda places her hand on her chest dramatically. “Be still my heart.” 

They go for a run and stop for bagels at a new favorite bakery of theirs, just as Bucky promised last night. Bucky holds open the door for him, and Steve orders for both of them. They drink their coffees and eat in their usual booth. 

“Hey,” Steve says, kicking Buck’s foot with his heel. He’s got some cream cheese on the side of his mouth, and he’s so goddamn gorgeous. 

Bucky raises his brow, taking a sip from his cup. “What?” 

“This is nice.” 

They’ve gone on runs and stopped for breakfast plenty of times. But, yes. This is nice. 

“Yeah,” he says back, and he kicks Steve’s foot with his own. He wets his thumb then reaches over the table between them to smudge off the cream cheese around Steve’s lips. Before he can pull his hand away, Steve fits it with his own and kisses their locked hands. 

Bucky’s _not_ blushing, but he can hear his heartbeat in his ears pulsing. 

He ducks his head away, shy. “We need to grab Max something,” he says, to break the silence. 

Steve nods, and he lets go of their hands. “Let’s walk back.” 

When they get home, Wanda’s on the couch, still in her pajamas. She’s got a reality show she watches a guilty pleasure playing, and she’s painting her toes. “Did you get me a—” 

“Cinnamon raisin with strawberry jelly? Yes,” Bucky says, and he hands her the bag. 

“Thank you,” she says, stuffing it in her mouth. “After my nails dry, we should head out.” 

Steve coughs a bit. “I might just go on my own,” he says. 

Bucky raises his brow. “You sure?” 

He rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I can figure it out.” 

Bucky wants to tease, “Oh, you just don’t want me to see you beforehand all decked out like some bride before her wedding,” but he doesn’t. He just nods his head. “Okay. But if we end up wearing the same thing, that’s on you.” 

Steve blushes. 

Wanda looks between the two of them. “Well, I’m gonna get changed. What did you guys wanna do for lunch?” 

Steve looks pointedly at Bucky. “Buck, didn’t you have something in mind?” 

“Yeah, I was thinking we could go somewhere to watch some football. Drink some beers.” 

“I didn’t know you were into football,” Wanda says, scrunching her eyebrows. 

“I’m not into anything,” he says plainly. “But it’d be a good game to watch.”

“Okay, fine.” Wanda taps her chin. “So, I’ll go with Bucky to get an outfit. You will go on your own. We can meet up for lunch once we’re done?” 

“Sure,” Bucky says, and Steve nods. “That’s a plan.”

*

Wanda takes him to some men’s clothing store she found online and has images on her phone that she swipes through as inspiration. “No tie,” she orders. “We’re going modern, minimalist, and suave.”

“Okay, Max,” he says. “What do you figure that looks like?” 

She shows him the phone and points at an outfit a model showcases. “Something like that.” 

Bucky agrees. “Huh, that’s nice.” 

With her help, he decides on a black two-button sports coat, a white dress shirt, and black pants. Wanda insists he doesn’t need a pocket-square either, and she helps him pick out patent leather oxfords.

The store’s tailor’s able to find him a shirt and jacket that fit over his arm. Wanda claps her hand all giddy when he models for her, and she looks so proud. “Oh, wow!” 

“Steve’ll like it?” he says quietly. “It looks good?” 

Wanda nods. “Yeah. You look great. Let’s buy some more dress shirts, and you’re set.” 

They don’t want to stuff the nice clothes into a bag, so Wanda insists they return home to hang up everything. Steve’s not there, and after he’s hung up everything in his closet he heads back down to the living room. 

Wanda googles for a place for lunch that’s close-by, and they settle on a Tex-Mex dive. It’s a short walk, but it’s pretty hot outside. They get a booth near the bar so they can see one of three flat screens. Wanda texts the location to Steve and also Sam in case he finishes up. 

Bucky orders a pitcher of cheap beer and chips and salsa. Wanda orders a margarita, and she hooks the little umbrella behind her ear. 

“Are you nervous?” she asks, taking a sip. “Woo, that is strong.” 

She points the straw in Bucky’s direction expectantly, and he takes a sip. “Yeah, that’s strong. And not really. I mean, it’s _Steve_ we’re talking about.” 

“It’s brand new territory, though.” 

Bucky shrugs. “Yeah, but I’ve always loved him. I think it’s gonna be good now that I can act on it.” 

Wanda laughs. “When Vision first asked me out, he had literally memorized an entire page of first date advice from some website. It was awkward. But, I think he loosened up after a while. We had a good two years, together.” She frowns and swirls the straw around in the slush. “I’ve been thinking about putting myself back out there, y’know? I’m not sure if I’m ready.” 

“I know,” he says softly. “I never really knew your sweetheart Vision, but if he was able to win your heart, I’m sure he was a real great guy.” 

Wanda looks at her drink then back up. “Anyways,” she says, pouring way more salt than necessary on the chip basket. “Have you decided on whether you’re gonna meet with our old Steve?” 

Bucky shrugs. He shakes off some salt from a chip, and he plops it in his mouth. “I’m not sure. I don’t think I’m ready for that just yet, Max.” 

Wanda nods. “You don’t owe him anything,” she says. “Whatever you think you once did, the second he left...you don’t owe him a thing.” 

“It still hurts.” He leaves it at that. 

Wanda nods. “It still hurts me, too. I never got to speak to him alone before he returned the Stones. I wish I could have done something.” 

“I didn’t know you two were so close,” Bucky admits. 

“After Ultron and my brother’s death, he took me under his wing. We’d do training together, and we had Wednesday lunches at this Thai place we both liked. He understood what it felt like, to feel like you don’t fit in. Then, after Berlin, when he broke me out of the underwater prison, he took it up a notch. He was so...so protective of me. And, I almost started seeing him like an older brother. He really cared about me. When I wanted to live with Vision, he understood, but I think he took it personally. But, I always knew he cared about me.” 

She’s lost so many important guys in her life in such a short span of time. Bucky swallows a knot in his throat. “I’m gonna stick around for you, okay? To tell you the truth, Max,” he starts, “you remind me of my kid sister.” 

“Which one?” she says. “I know you had three.” 

“Rebecca. We called her Becca. She was the oldest girl, younger than me by three years. She was a bona fide firecracker. Smart as a whip, so fucking brilliant. Not to say my other sisters weren’t, but Becca’d really lay into me sometimes. And, she was thoughtful, and she could read me like a goddamn book. She could take one look at me, and she’d know exactly how I was feeling.” 

“Thank you for telling me this,” Wanda says. She’s halfway through her margarita, and she’s a shade of pink. Her eyes are soft and wet. “Thank you.” 

“Of course,” Bucky says. “You two woulda gotten along famously.” He breaks a chip in half. “I never got to, y’know, watch them all grow up. I know I’ve got a bunch of grand and great-grand nephews and nieces.” 

“Have you ever reached out?” Wanda asks. 

He shrugs. “No. I don’t know if I’m…, fuck I’m not ready for a lot of things. I’d feel like an intruder, y’know? I looked up one of them on Facebook, and god she’s a replica of Becca. Spot on. Same nose and eyes. She’s a professor out in Boston, and I don’t know if I could just go see them all. Like, hey I’m your long lost uncle who’s killed tons of people, wanna give me a hug? Or, if I get in contact with them, that’ll make them targets. God knows what someone would do the Winter Soldier’s family to break him.” He tears at his paper napkin. “I’m not ready for that.” 

“That’s fine. You’ll know when you know.” Wanda pulls the napkin away from him. “Wanna talk about something else?” 

He finishes his pint and pours himself another. “Yeah. Please.” 

Their phones buzz. It’s Steve, and he’s about to walk in. They wave him down, and he squeezes into the booth next to Wanda. They’re facing each other this way. Wanda is a buffer, so no funny business will occur. 

“Hey.” Steve smoothes the napkin on his lap. “Had to run back to the house and put everything up.” 

“We did the same,” Wanda says. She finishes her margarita. 

Bucky slides Steve one of the glasses, and he fills himself a pint. The server comes and gives Wanda another margarita and refills their chip basket. 

Once the game starts, Steve insists on rooting for the Giants. “They’re based in New York, c’mon.” 

Bucky shrugs. “Okay. That’s fine. But if Sam wants the Giants to win—” 

“I know, I know,” Steve submits, hands in the air. “Why are you two so competitive?” 

Bucky shrugs. “It all started during this one longass car ride.” 

Right after halftime, Sam shows up. He’s in civilian clothes with sunglasses that he’s wearing indoors. He settles in the seat next to Bucky, and Bucky fills him up a glass. “Don’t steal it this time,” Bucky teases. The server takes his order, and Sam slumps against the booth. 

“That was fun,” he deadpans, and he throws back his beer. “Some former AIM scientist asshole was on top of the Empire State building, threatening to drop this bio-weapon. Rhodes grabbed him, and I grabbed the vial. Turned out to be nothing, but I still had to sit in quarantine for an hour.” 

“Brutal. You poor thing.” Bucky steals some rice from Wanda’s plate. “We’re in no rush, so just relax.” 

“Who are you rooting for?” Sam asks, nudging at the direction of the screen. 

“Who are _you_ rooting for?” Bucky asks right back. 

“I’m Captain America. I guess I gotta cheer for the Eagles, right? American Eagle. Get it?” he says. 

“Also because you were the Falcon. Why don’t we just call you The Eagle?” Wanda says, pleased with herself. "Get it?" Bucky gives her a smile to let her know he thought that was funny, too. 

“You’re going for the Eagles, huh? That’s a shame because I was betting on the Giants,” Bucky says. He breaks another chip in half. “Too bad we’re not on the same side.” 

“I mean, they’re based in New York, Sam,” Steve adds. 

Sam looks to Wanda. She giggles into her margarita with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I guess I could root for the Eagles.” 

“A family divided,” Steve laments, shaking his head. 

“Wanna make it interesting, Barnes?” Sam says. 

“Please, let’s not—” Steve says, but Bucky’s nodding vehemently. “Hell yeah, Wilson. Let’s make it interesting.” 

“If the Eagles win, you gotta shine my shield.” 

“Fine. But if the Giants win you gotta shine my arm." 

They shake on it, and Steve shakes his head. 

Wanda snickers. “Well, the Giants are down by twelve.” She’s got a paper umbrella tucked behind each ear, and she’s flushed. “That’s not good for you two.” 

Bucky pretends to brush the dirt off his shoulders. That’s a move he saw in a movie, and he think it applies here. “We got time.” He calls over the server and orders another pitcher of beer. “We got plenty of time.”

* 

“Don’t gotta keep rubbing it in,” Bucky grimaces.

Sam laughs. “Better get yourself a nice rag, Barnes!” 

“Whatever.”

Wanda cackles between hiccups. “You lost by fifteen!” 

“Whatever” he repeats. They’re walking back to the house. 

Wanda’s pretty tipsy, and Steve’s got their arms linked, helping her keep one foot ahead of the other. He’s even got her third cocktail umbrella tucked behind his right ear. “Whatever!” she mimics, lowering her voice. “You ready to go take Steve out?” She leans into Steve’s side and ‘whispers’ loudly to him. “He’s gonna look sooo handsome!” 

Sam whiplashes. “What?” 

Bucky rubs behind his neck. “Oh, did we not say anything? Steve and I are going out on a date.” 

Steve’s blushing, but he stares resolutely ahead, focusing on keeping Wanda upright. 

Sam shakes his head in gleeful disbelief. “What?!” 

“Yep,” Bucky tells him. “Got us a reservation for 19:30 and everything.” 

“Since when?” 

“Last night.” 

“Really?” 

“Really.” 

Sam’s eyes brighten. “Well, good for you two. It’s about time.” 

Steve’s still adamantly concentrating on Wanda, but Bucky sees the sides of his lips stretch in a smile. 

“I know,” Bucky agrees. “I know.”

*

He called for a car that should be arriving around 19:00.

Bucky showers and styles his hair back with some pomade. He considers shaving, but he decides to trim his beard so it’s not as unkempt. Wanda insisted on him buying some fancy cologne, so he spritzes some very sparingly over his flesh wrist. The back of the box it came in said it’s supposed to smell like saffron, black truffles, and crocus flowers. Bucky has no idea what those things smell like, but the scent isn’t too overwhelming or faint. It’s fine. 

Wanda knocks on his door right after he’s finished tucking his shirt into his pants. “I should ruffle your hair for letting me drink three margaritas,” she muses, but she stands against the closed door and absorbs it all. “You look very nice.” 

“Should I wear gloves?” he asks, waving his hand. “No one will say anything, right?” 

“They shouldn’t,” Wanda says. “Are you worried you’ll be noticed?” 

Bucky shrugs. “I mean, a place like this probably doesn’t allow cellphones in the dining area. It would be impolite to bother us while we’re eating, so I’m sure no one will try.” 

Wanda sits on his bed. “Put on the jacket,” she insists and he does. “Spin around.” 

“Max, I already tried it on for you earlier,” he protests. 

“C’mon! Spin around!” she cajoles and he spins around. “I have to take it all in. With the hair and what not. You look very dashing.” 

“I should have bought a watch or something,” Bucky mumbles, rubbing his metal wrist. 

“Why? Your phone tells the time.” 

Bucky sighs. “It’s the image, Max. But, I’m fine. You promise I look good?” 

Wanda crosses her heart. “James Barnes, you look riveting.” 

“If you insist,” he says. “I’m gonna finish putting on my shoes. Is Steve waiting on me?” 

“I’ll go check,” she says, and she leaves.

Bucky takes a moment to stare at himself in the mirror. He’s scrutinizing himself under a different lens this time. He supposes he looks objectively handsome. His mother would have gawked at how long his hair is, but he likes how it looks, smoothed back. He’s been sleeping better, so his the circles under his eyes aren’t so dark.

He’s never really _cared_ about his appearance. One’s ability to shoot straight or stab important organs doesn’t depend on how stylish he is. But, he wants to look nice. He wants to look good for Steve. And, maybe, for the first time in a while, himself. 

“You’re okay,” he tells himself. He sits on the bed to pull on his socks and shoes. He gives himself one last look-over before he heads down. 

Wanda’s on the couch, and Sam’s right next to her. “I expect you back before midnight,” he says sternly. 

Wanda swats him. “Oh stop.” She tells Bucky, “You look great. I’m sure you’ll have a great time.” 

“Buck?” Steve calls from upstairs. 

“Yeah?” he yells back up. 

Steve walks down, and Bucky can’t stop looking at him. 

Steve’s something right out of Bucky’s dreams. He’s wearing a dark gray suit with a blue linen shirt. He’s got a little blue pocket square as well. His hair is parted to the side the way he used to wear it. 

Bucky is speechless. Steve’s eyes crinkle. “Everything okay?” 

He snaps out of it. “Yeah, pal.” His phone buzzes. “The car’s here. You ready?” 

“Yes,” Steve says. 

Bucky presents his hand. “Alright, champ. Let’s go.” 

“You better behave!” Sam calls after them as Bucky escorts Steve down to the curb where the car’s waiting.

* 

They got a cozy table that’s more off to the side, next to a window.

Their dinner’s delicious, and Bucky keeps smiling into his glass of wine most of the night. He’s never considered himself tongue-tied, but Steve’s sparkling eyes and the soft way he’s looking at Bucky has him feeling all loose and open. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Bucky tells him for probably the fiftieth time. “I can’t stop looking at you.” 

Steve blushes like it’s the first time he’s heard it. “I had the lady at the store tell me what to wear,” he deflects, and he’s so pink.

“I don’t deserve you,” he says without thinking.

He grabs Bucky’s metal hand and holds them together. “I’m not gonna go anywhere. Remember what you said to me after my ma died?” 

Bucky swallows a lump in his throat. “Yeah.” 

“It goes both ways, Buck. The line’s not ending anytime soon,” he promises. 

Bucky nods. “I love you,” he croaks.

Steve wipes his thumb over his knuckles. “I love you, too.” His foot pokes at Bucky’s ankle. “Now, how about we order some dessert? And some cocktails?” 

Bucky smiles. “Yeah, that sounds nice.” 

They share a decadent and rich chocolate cake. 

“We’re not gonna go see a film, are we?” Steve asks, digging into a piece. 

“I thought we could watch something at home instead,” Bucky says. “If that’s okay with you, of course.” 

Steve nods. “That sounds good. We’ll watch it downstairs, right? On the big couch?” 

“Uh huh. Whatever you like, Steve,” he insists. 

Bucky finishes his whiskey, and Steve finishes his bourbon. 

Bucky calls a car to drive them back home. Steve stays modestly to his side of the car until they’re home, but they hold hands. 

Sam’s sitting under a lamp in the living room. He taps his non-existent watch, “Do you have any idea what time it is?” he asks. 

“Nope,” Bucky says, and he leads Steve upstairs. “Get changed into something comfy, okay?” 

“Okay,” Steve says, and they part ways. 

He’s seen Steve in his pajamas all the time, but in the context of cuddling...it makes him feel soft inside. 

He sends a quick text to Wanda to collect Sam from downstairs. Moments later he hears Wanda huffing down to gather him, and he listens to them going up to the top floor. He changes into some fleece pajama pants and a soft t-shirt. He ties his slicked hair into a ponytail after ruffling it a bit. 

Steve’s already on the couch. Well, here goes nothing. 

He settles against the back of the couch, and Steve curls into his side. “Is this okay?” 

Bucky nods. “You comfortable?” 

Steve shuffles a bit, and he pulls Bucky’s arm to rest against his shoulder. He grabs a blanket and pulls it over them. “Yeah. This is good.” 

“Good,” Bucky says. He grabs the remote and lets Steve pick out the movie. 

They stay in that quasi-cuddling position the entire film, and once it’s over Steve nuzzles into his side. “That was nice,” he says. 

“Mhm.” 

He takes Bucky by the chin and looks at him. “Didn’t you promise me something after we had dinner and a movie?” 

Bucky nods, and he rests his forehead against Steve's. “I did.” 

All snuggled up, it’s easier to kiss him. It’s still soft and conservative, and Steve sighs against him. 

“You’re so sweet,” he murmurs, and Steve kisses him again. When he pulls away, he pecks Steve’s forehead. “Wanna head up to bed?” 

Steve hesitates. “I don’t know if I’m ready to share—” 

“I know,” Bucky insists. “We’re gonna go as slow as you need, sweetheart. I wanna walk you up anyway.” 

He gives Steve another quick kiss goodnight after they arrive at his door. “Thank you,” he whispers against his temple. “You looked so good, tonight. I had such a great time with you, Steve.”

Steve just beams, and Bucky can’t help but kiss him quickly one last time before heading back to his own room. 

After he readies for bed and crawls in, he checks his phone. He’d had it on ‘do not disturb’ the whole evening, and the only time he’d checked it was when he asked Wanda to get Sam upstairs. 

He’s got another voicemail. It’s from the same number Old Steve called him with. 

“Nope,” he says out loud. He’s not gonna let a voicemail ruin this night. The best night he’s had in ages. “Not tonight.” 

He’ll listen in the morning, Bucky figures. Wanda can come outside with him to the patio, and they can listen and talk shit about it. That’s what he’ll do. 

He sends his Steve a text. “Goodnight. Love you. Thank you for letting me take you out.” 

Steve sends him back one just as fast. “I love you. sleep tight buck.” 

Bucky does just that.


	5. Chapter 5

“You’re up early again,” Bucky remarks as Wanda walks into the kitchen. He’s halfway through his coffee, and he’s been skimming the newspaper. 

“You have a good night?” Wanda waggles her eyebrows. 

Bucky smiles in spite of himself. “Yeah, Max. We did.” 

“Aw! I’m so glad!” She claps her hands close to her chest really fast. 

“But,” he starts. 

“What?” She pours herself a mug. 

He sighs. “I got another voicemail. From, y’know who.” 

Her face falls. Her lips thin as she stirs in some sweetener. “Is he asking for the same thing?” 

“I haven’t listened, yet. I thought we could listen together.” 

“Wanna do it outside?” 

“Sure.” He scoots from his spot at the kitchen island. “We might as well make a tradition out of the spot if he’s gonna start calling me every night.” 

She frowns. “I hope getting the message didn’t ruin the night.” 

Bucky sighs. “I had a great time with Steve last night. It just,” he starts. He slides open the door, and he closes it once Wanda walks out. “It just sucks, Max.” 

She sits cross-legged on one of the chaises, and she pats the spot next to her. 

Wanda hits the pause button right after Bucky pushes play. “Are you sure you wanna hear it?” She plucks absentmindedly at one of the buttons in the cushion. 

“Yes.” Bucky reaches for the phone that’s between them on the side-table, but she sneaks it away with a glowing stream of red. “Really?” 

She gives him a stern look. “Look. You were in such a good mood yesterday, and now you’re looking miserable. So, are you _sure_ you want to listen to whatever he wants to fucking say?” 

Bucky sighs. “Yes, Max.” 

She exhales. “Fine.” Wanda releases the phone, and he takes it back. 

Before he can hit play, the door to the patio opens. Sam’s in his sweatpants with a steaming mug of coffee in hand. He gives them both a wary glance. 

“Are you two having a shit-talking session without me?” he asks. 

Wanda nods. “Yes.” 

“What about?” he asks, and he slides the door shut behind him. Sam settles on the lounge chair facing them. 

Bucky sighs again. “Steve, _the Old Steve,_ he’s been uh, leaving me voicemails for two nights in a row. We’re about to listen to the one from last night.” 

Sam frowns. “Has he reached out to you, Wanda?” 

Wanda shakes her head. “Nope. Only Bucky’s getting messages.” 

“Oh,” Sam says back, and he sounds disappointed.

“I know,” Wanda says. “Maybe he’ll grace us with a call when he feels like it.” 

Sam sips his coffee. “What was the first voicemail about?” 

“He called me the night before yesterday. Said he wants to meet with me and explain some stuff. Says he’s all sorry and whatever. I didn’t respond.” 

“Yes, you did,” Wanda says with a teasing, small smile. “Your heart responded. You took our Steve on a date.” 

“That’s not a response, that was just a—” 

“Reaction?” She bats her eyelashes. 

“Look, can I just play it now?” Bucky exasperates. “Please?” 

Wanda yields, and Bucky turns up the volume so everyone can hear. 

“Buck,” the message starts. Old Steve’s voice is familiar and alien at the same time. “Hey, pal. You never responded to the message I left yesterday. I know you’re upset with me, but please, can we talk? You could come to my home? Or we could meet somewhere else? I just, god Buck, it kills me that we’re not talking. I miss you real bad, Buck. Remember those video chats we did when you were in Wakanda? I just want to go back to that. The way we used to talk.” He sighs. “There’s so much I want to share with you. And I—” 

Steve slides open the patio door. Bucky pauses the message, and Wanda gives a sheepish wave. “Good morning, Steve.” This isn’t an ideal look; the three of them in a close circle outside listening to something without him. “Did you sleep well?” 

Steve’s brows furrow. “What’s going on?” 

Bucky sighs. “We’re listening to a voicemail. From the Other You.” 

“Yeah, I could hear it,” he says, rubbing at his eyes. He probably just woke up; he’s in his pajamas. His hair is a rats’ nest. “But, why is everyone out here? Is this some secret meeting?”

Bucky and Wanda exchange a look. “No, we just—” Wanda starts. “It’s a beautiful day.” 

It’s not a beautiful day. The sky is gray, and it’s in the lower 50s this morning. 

Steve frowns. “Did you guys not want me to hear it?” 

Fuck. “No no no. We’re not trying to exclude you or—” Bucky starts. 

“I know. I’m just giving you guys shit.” He snickers, and he’s wearing a shit-eating grin. “Can we act secretive inside?” Steve asks, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll make some toast.” 

Steve gives Bucky a wink, and he heads back inside. 

Sam and Wanda sit at the kitchen island. Bucky pours himself a fresh mug of coffee, and he leans against the counter, watching Steve load up the toaster with slices of bread. 

Once they’re all sitting at the island with a plate of toast, Bucky pulls his phone out again. 

Bucky inhales and exhales. “I’m gonna play it, now. Okay?” 

Wanda nods. 

He presses play. 

“—love you. I really do. You might not believe me, but Buck, I mean it. I wish I could show you. Please consider meeting with me. Maybe later, the Other Me and I can talk, too. Well.” He pauses. “I know it’s late. You’re still a night owl, huh? You’d stay up so late just to talk to me, with all the different time zones and all.” He chuckles softly. “Please call me back. I’ve missed you. I love you. Good night.” 

“Well,” Sam says to break the awkward silence that follows. “That was…” 

“Fuck that,” Wanda asserts.

The rage pooling in his stomach subsides into a lump in his throat. He wants to feel anger, but instead it’s just a muted resignation. 

“Buck?” Steve says softly. He takes Bucky’s hand. “You okay?” 

Bucky nods quickly like he’s trying to convince himself more than Steve. He wipes at his face and then sits up straighter. “You know what? You’re right, Max. Fuck that.” He squeezes Steve’s hand. “He’s gonna probably fucking call me tonight, and y’know what? I’ll answer this time. I’ll talk to him. I’ll go meet him and whatever. But then, I’m _done_.” 

Steve’s thumb swirls over his knuckles. “Do you think I should go talk to him as well?” 

“Only if you want to.” Wanda twists one of the rings on her middle finger and huffs. "Fuck," she grits under her breath, and she drops her head into her hands against the counter. 

"Max?" Bucky asks carefully. 

She sits back up and groans. "I'm just pissed off." She shrugs like she's trying to be nonchalant, but her face is coiled in anger. "Yeah. I just. I’m not upset at you. I’m upset he hasn’t reached out to me. That’s all.” She huffs again. “Like, I know I let him have a piece of my mind. But, I mean…” She stops. “He hasn’t reached out to me, or Sam. I’m not angry at _you_ I’m angry at him.” Wanda breaks off a piece of toast and stuffs it in her mouth. “Whatever.”

"Yeah," Sam agrees. "I mean, we were friends for a long time. I mean, c'mon, he went back to a pre-Civil Rights era willingly. He lived an entire life without me. I guess I thought I meant more to him than that. In Stark’s home, y’know, right after, he kept saying he missed us all. But, he isn’t acting like it." He rubs his knuckles. "A text would be nice, at least." 

Steve frowns. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." 

"No, man. It's not you," Sam says. "You're great. I'm glad you're here. We all are." He peels the crust off a piece of bread. "It just sucks. But hey, brightside is, we have you now." 

Steve smiles a little. "Well, more like you're stuck with me." 

Sam laughs, and Wanda cracks a little smile herself.

“Well." Bucky says finally, ready to move on for the morning. He doesn't want to drag Sam and Wanda into his pit of despair and let them wade in it. "It’s only oh-eight hundred, and I think we've all hit our Shitty Feeling Quota for the day.” Bucky turns to Wanda. “What time does that yoga place open?” 

“Nine. You wanna go?” 

He nods. “Yeah, I’m feeling tense in my shoulder. And everywhere.” 

“Okay, I’ll call them and make sure they're not packed.” 

Steve looks at Sam and raises a brow. “Wanna go for a light jog?” 

“You mean a full-out sprint? Sure, man. But, we’re stopping for pancakes after you lap me three times.” 

Sam and Wanda head upstairs to change. Steve and Bucky stay behind. 

“Hey,” Steve says softly. “You sure you’re okay?” 

“It’s like, every time I think about it, a wound opens back up. I’m ready to just cauterize the damn thing already.” He touches the side of Steve’s face softly. “Besides, I’ve got you. ” 

Steve smiles. “Yeah, Buck. You got me.” 

Their foreheads touch, and they just sit there, sharing the moment. 

“Should we go get dressed?” 

Bucky nods. “Yeah.” 

Steve kisses Bucky’s forehead. 

“Are you scrunching your nose?” Steve asks fondly. 

He definitely is. “No.” 

“Yes, you are,” he teases softly. He kisses Bucky’s forehead again, and Bucky blushes even harder.

*

Bucky prefers to go to yoga without the metal arm. People won’t stare as much, and the absence of the prosthetic alleviates the pressure on his shoulder. The Vibranium arm weighs way less than the original, and Shuri made sure it could be detached and reattached with ease. His shoulder is still fucked up, even if he tries to act like it isn’t.

Wanda ties up the sleeve to his shirt for him with a hair tie. Steve kisses his forehead again as he and Sam head out, and he has the _audacity_ to laugh when his nose scrunches up. 

“That’s so cute,” Wanda tells him as they walk to the studio. “You two are so cute.” 

The yoga does help ease the knot in his shoulder and releases some of the tension inside him. He and Wanda stop for fruit smoothies on the walk back because those are technically healthy, right? 

It starts raining right as they make it home. 

“You gonna take him out again?” she asks as he unlocks the front door. 

“Probably. I just don’t know where,” he says. They get inside before they get too wet. 

“Sam and Steve must still be out,” Wanda comments as she puts her smoothie in the fridge to finish later. Bucky heads to the laundry room and grabs a fresh pair of towels. “I can’t hear Sam moaning about his knees aching.” 

Bucky cackles and tosses her a towel. “Looks like it’s gonna be a rainy day inside, Max,” he says, stopping to stare out the window. It’s pouring down hard. “Maybe we can scratch off some more movies from that film list.” 

“You know, I’m still offended that not _one_ Sokovian film is on that list,” she huffs. 

“Huh,” he says. “What are some good ones?” 

Wanda laughs. “Oh, we had a shitty film industry. None of them are good. Most are terrible. I just think it’d be funny if we watched this really bad one and for us to rave about how great it is just to see if Sam would play along because he doesn’t wanna seem uncultured or whatever.” 

Bucky laughs. “We should definitely do that.” 

*

It seems that people prefer calling him whenever he’s busy because when he hops out of the shower, he has another voicemail. But this time, it’s a good thing. 

He dries off and dresses himself in some comfy sweats before flopping down on his bed to listen. 

“Hey, White Wolf!" Shuri sing-songs. "Why did you not tell me there were teddy bears made after you? Should we start producing little white wolves? The children in the village would love that. How have you been? And why are you not answering your phone? Call me back!” 

Bucky walks out of his room and almost runs right into a soaking wet Steve. 

“God, you’re drenched to the bone, huh?” he points out helpfully. “Didn’t wanna call a car?” 

“Nope.” Steve shakes his head and smiles. “Builds character, doesn’t it?” 

Bucky guffaws. “I’ll be downstairs.” 

Wanda’s all cozied up on the couch, and she’s in the coveted prime location where the sectional meets so she gets to have a pillow behind her back and her legs stretched out. She’s also in some leisure clothes, and she’s got her wet hair up in a messy bun. She’d recorded her favorite reality show, and she fast forward through all the commercials. Bucky doesn’t really understand what the show’s about other than the fact that a small group of people stir up huge amounts of needless drama. Wanda loves it though, so who is Bucky to criticize? 

“Hey,” she says as he sits down and plops his legs up on the ottoman. “Those two were too stubborn to call an Uber. They better clean up all the wet they brought it. Sam almost slipped in his own tracks. I’m sorry you weren’t here to see it.” 

He is sorry he didn’t see it as well. “Bummer.” 

She looks at him, and her brows furrow. “What’s got you all smiley?” 

“Shuri reached out. Wanna have a video call with her?” he asks. 

Wanda mutes the TV. “Of course!” 

He lets Wanda snatch his phone so she can hold it at an angle she thinks is more flattering. Shuri’s face pops up after the third ring. 

“Hello!” Shuri exclaims. She’s in her lab with some equipment buzzing around her. “Bucky! Wanda! Long time, no see.” 

“How is everything?” Wanda asks. 

"Everything? Fine." Shuri clicks her tongue. “Wakanda is great. M’Baku and Okoye did a great job keeping things together in my family’s absence. My lab on the other hand, well let’s say I’m a bit behind in some projects.” A cackling pop sounds off somewhere in the lab. "My mother is busy busy busy catching up with her affairs as well. Aren't we all?" She laughs. 

Bucky recalls hearing that Queen Ramonda was dusted as well. He’s morbidly grateful for that; a mother losing her two children after losing her husband...he doesn’t like dwelling on the thought.

“How’s the king?” Bucky asks. 

“My brother? Well, that’s what I’m actually calling about.” 

“Is everything okay?” Bucky asks. 

Shuri laughs. “Yes! Yes, he is great! He is getting married to Nakia.” 

Bucky sighs in relief, and Wanda claps her hands joyously. “Oh, good!” 

“They had to 'postpone' for five years, and they do not want to wait any longer,” Shuri explains. “It’ll be taking place in about a month.” 

“Wow. That’s really quick,” Wanda comments. 

Shuri laughs. “Nah, Wakandan weddings do not take long to plan. They would have it sooner, too, but they want to make sure everyone can come. It’s the getting-people-on-the-same-page part that takes time. But yes, I’ll have a sister in a month.” 

"How many people do you expect to come?" 

Shuri shrugs. "Well, I don't know the exact number. But, it'll be secure and safe if that's the fear." Shuri then clears her throat. "I heard that you found the other Captain America?" 

"We did," Bucky says. "He's doing great." 

"Well, he's invited as well, of course. I guess two Steve Rogers will be at the wedding. Three Captain Americas? With Sam and them? Wow, that's a lot," Shuri comments. "If your new Captain Rogers ever needs, y'know...I'll help anyway I can. But yes! How exciting!" 

“Well, count me in,” Bucky says. "Wouldn't dream of missing it." 

“Yeah, same!” Wanda agrees.

She celebrates with a Xhosa saying before her face freezes. “Oh. Shit. Well, if you could actually keep quiet about this for moment, that’d be great. The official invitations are on their way, but I wanted to reach out personally. I like to give my Favorite White Boy special treatment,” she teases. “Aaaand, I would like to take a look at your arm. Give it some upgrades, if I may?” 

Bucky still isn’t wearing it. He shrugs, lopsided. “It’s your arm, technically. But of course.”

Shuri smiles wide. “Great!” There’s a loud boom somewhere behind her, but she doesn’t startle. “Yes! Finally! I need to go measure that. This new energy absorption tech I'm working on is just...well, can I say, _booming_! Haha. Well, call me again when you get the official invites!” 

They wave goodbye and hang up. 

“That’s so sweet,” Wanda says. “It’ll be nice to get to enjoy it, you know? The only times I’ve been I was a fugitive or...” She stops. Oh. Wanda watched Vision die there, twice. It’s the last place they were together. “I’d like to be there in a more happy circumstance.” 

“It is beautiful there,” Bucky agrees. He misses the herd he helped take care of, the people, the land, and the culture. He misses how safe it felt to live there. He misses Shuri, too. “I’m sure it’ll be great.” 

Wanda smiles sadly, and she turns back to the TV. She unmutes it and burrows under the blanket a little more. Her eyes are a little wet.

Bucky understands. “Want me to make some tea? The peppermint kind?”

Wanda nods. “Yes, please.” Her voice is little broken. 

He heads to the kitchen. One of his more surprising favorite things in this century is the electric kettle. He fills it up with water and watches it bubble and boil on the plate. He drops in three tea bags to let it seep once it’s done, and then fills up two mugs. He brings one over to her, and she takes it. 

Bucky grabs his own mug, and he settles back on the couch. 

He watches the show with her for a few minutes, struggling to understand the drama unfolding. It might be a good way to distract her, so he asks, “Why is the redhead girl upset with that other girl with the tattoos?” 

Wanda sniffs. “Those two hate each other,” Wanda says, like it’s obvious. “I can’t explain their history that easily. It’s like, two seasons worth of drama. But recently, they’re both interested in the same guy, again.” 

“Huh.” 

Wanda laughs. “Yeah, it’s like a cycle. But, it’s fun to watch.” 

Sam joins them on the couch a few minutes later, and he won’t let Bucky say one word about them running home in the rain. “It builds character,” he says simply, and that’s that. “Oh, are those two still fighting about that date night?” 

Wanda sighs and laments, “Yeah.” 

“When are they gonna get over it already?” Sam huffs. 

“Who needs to get over it already?” Steve asks as he walks down into the kitchen. Steve’s dressed all soft, and he looks like a goddamn fluffy _duckling_ with his hair dried out in different directions. Bucky fucking loves him. “Is it those girls on that show?” 

“Yeah. And the episode’s almost over,” Wanda points out. “I’ll have to wait till next week to find out if they resolve their problems. They probably won’t, but it might happen.” 

Steve helps himself to some tea, and he crosses over into the living room. He plops on the couch near Bucky, but not too close. 

Wanda stares at them very directly, then she looks away. 

The episode ends, and Sam grabs the remote as the titles flash across the screen. 

“So, are we up for a rainy day movie marathon or what?” he says excitedly. He pulls the spreadsheet he keeps on his phone in some app, and then he proposes some potential genres. “Are we feeling action? Comedy? Period piece? Horror?” 

They all agree on a comedy, and Sam finds it on Netflix. 

A few minutes into the movie, Wanda finally huffs, “You know, you two can cuddle. Don’t be shy on my behalf.” 

Steve gives Bucky a blushed, wide-eyed look, and Bucky shrugs. Steve places his mug on the coffee table, and he scoots in closer to Bucky’s side. Bucky uses his one arm to wrap it around Steve’s shoulders, and Steve fixes the blanket to fit over their laps. 

“I’m gonna be sick,” Sam deadpans, lovingly. 

Steve finds the movie much funnier than Bucky does, but Bucky likes watching him laugh and snicker at silly jokes and gags. 

Wanda decides to ask Sam to play her favorite Sokovian film as the credits roll, and Bucky shares a knowing look. 

“It’s a must-see classic,” she insists, very straight-faced. “I’m sure you can find it on Demand or somewhere.” 

They do find _The Fire in The Search: The Son of a Princess of Death_ in its entirety for free (shockingly). 

It is awful. Bucky is no film critic, but it is fucking awful. He’s not sure what the plot is. The acting is terrible. The audio is not synced in the most agitating way. The editing is jumbled and confusing. There’s like three plots points that don’t get answered. The quality of the film suggests it was filmed on a fucking potato or something. 

He watches as Sam tries not to wince or cringe throughout. Wanda does a great show of watching very intensively. Steve gives Bucky a confused look halfway through, and he whispers soft enough for Bucky to catch, “Is this movie real? Or is this another comedy?” 

When the ending titles begin, Wanda immediately wipes at her eyes. “That was great. This must be the third time I’ve seen it, and it astounds me each time.” 

Bucky agrees. “It was way better than I thought it would be.” 

Sam gawks. Steve gives him an even more confused look. 

Wanda continues. “There’s a sequel as well. I usually take a day to reflect though because what we just watched is so powerful. So we can always watch it another time?” 

Bucky nods very seriously. “Oh, yeah. I really want to see where the story goes from here. That was amazing.” 

Wanda turns to Sam. “How come you don’t have movies like that on your list?” 

Sam sputters. “What?” 

“Didn’t you think that was great?” Bucky asks, eyebrows furrowed. "I mean, c'mon Wilson. That was a masterpiece. Right?" 

Sam stares at them. He finally rises from the couch. “I’m gonna call in some lunch. Lemme go get my laptop.” He then mumbles under his breath, "What the fuck?"

Once he’s out of hearing range, and Wanda and Bucky burst into a fit of giggles. 

Steve spares them an unimpressed look.

“Did you really make us watch that ninety minute whatever-the-hell-that-was just to fuck with Sam?” Steve whispers in his ear.

Bucky nods. Steve kisses his forehead.

“Your nose scrunches when you blush,” Wanda points out helpfully.

*

They take a break from watching movies to eat lunch. Sam calls in some Chinese takeout, and they all eat at the island. Wanda continues to rave about the film, and Sam watches her with extreme confusion.

“Y’all are weird as fuck,” he remarks, stuffing a dumpling in his mouth. "Did we not just watch the same movie? Did I just hallucinate that?" he bemoans. 

Wanda shrugs. "I mean, I thought it was splendid." 

Sam mumbles into his fried rice, "What the fuck?"

Bucky clears his throat. “By the way, we’re not supposed to really share this, but we’re all going to Wakanda soon.” 

Steve raises his eyebrows. “That kingdom with the Vibranium?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Why?” Sam asks. “What’s going on?” 

“T’Challa is getting married in a month. Shuri called earlier. The invites are on the way,” Wanda explains. “I bet the Wakandan film industry is great, too.” 

“Here we go again,” Sam laments. 

They finish their lunch and head back to laze on the couch. Just after Steve snuggles back into his side, his phone buzzes against the coffee table. 

It’s Old Steve.

“It’s the Other Steve,” he says, and he watches the phone vibrate.

“Why is he calling so early?” Wanda asks.

“Are you gonna answer?” Sam hooks a thumb over his shoulder. “We can give you the room if—” 

“No, stay here,” Bucky insists. He picks up the phone. “I want you all here.” 

“Okay,” Wanda says carefully. 

They all hold their breaths. Bucky pushes the answer button and puts it on speaker. 

“This is Barnes,” he says gruffly, holding the phone close to his mouth. He looks like the girls in the reality shows, talking directly into their phone while having it on speaker. 

“Buck,” Old Steve says. “I didn’t think you’d answer.” 

“Then why’d you call?” 

Wanda mouths, “Oh shit!” 

Old Steve clears his throat. “Have you received my voicemails?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Good.” 

Bucky waits for Old Steve to continue while Steve rubs his back. 

“Look, if you’re not gonna talk, I’m gonna hang up,” he sighs after fifteen seconds of silence. 

“Buck,” Old Steve pleads. “Will you consider it, please? Meeting with me?”

“What do you have to say in person that can’t be said over the phone and right now?” 

Old Steve sighs. “I want to see you. Please.” 

Bucky gulps. Steve gives him an encouraging nod. “Fine. Tonight. Let’s talk tonight.” 

“Oh, thank you. Would you like to come to my home to—”

“Nope,” he says quickly. The last thing he wants is to be surrounded by the home Steve created over the years without him. The family photos. The furniture. Everything. “Not there.” 

“We could do it over dinner somewhere?” 

Bucky snorts. “You wanna give me dinner before you fuck me this time? How polite.” 

Wanda clasps her hand over her mouth before she squawks. Sam looks strangely proud. Steve rubs gently over his back. 

Old Steve clears his throat again. “Bucky, I… Where would you feel more comfortable?” 

Bucky rubs at his temple. Wanda mouths “here?” to the group. Sam shrugs his shoulders. Steve nods that he’s cool with it. “Come to me. To my house. I’d feel comfortable at my home.” 

“Okay,” Old Steve says. “Okay, that sounds good.” 

“I’m guessing you know where our house is?” Bucky grits out. “Did FRIDAY tell you that, too?” 

“Yes,” Old Steve says quietly. 

“Come around twenty-hundred,” Bucky says curtly and hangs up. 

Everyone seems to exhale at the same time. 

“I’m proud of you, Buck,” Steve tells him. 

Bucky shrugs, trying to act nonchalant. “Whatever.” 

“Do you want us here?” Sam asks. “We can leave for a few hours?” 

“No, I’d feel better knowing you guys are home. We’ll probably talk here. Or, if it’s stopped raining, we’ll sit outside.” 

Steve takes his hand and squeezes it.

*

They don’t watch another movie. Well, Bucky doesn’t. He goes up to his room for some alone time, or as Wanda lovingly calls it “sulking and brooding.” How can he sulk and brood if his door isn’t even closed? When Steve tried to follow up after him, he insisted he wanted some time to be alone. He hoped Steve didn’t take it personally for being standoffish. It's just, he'd rather not have Steve see him "sulk and brood."

He listens to them start another film from Sam’s list. It’s a political thriller from the 70s. After listening for a few minutes, he tunes it out. He considers writing in his journal, reading, or doing anything besides staring at his ceiling fan. But, he doesn’t. 

After the movie, he listens to Sam and Wanda discuss the reality show. Steve interrupts for clarification many times. They go back and watch the first two episodes of the first season after Steve fails to comprehend the web of drama they’re trying to unspool. 

Bucky stares at his ceiling fan and listens.

After their reality show binge finishes, Wanda decides she wants to make a Sokovian dinner and enlists Sam to drive them over to Super Foodtown so she could get the proper ingredients. Sam is happy to take his car out of the garage, and Wanda loves grocery shopping. “I just put my headphones in and listen to a podcast, and it’s super relaxing,” she once told Bucky as they examined the produce aisle. 

Soon after they leave, Steve disrupts his alone time with a knock on the door’s hinge. 

“Can I come in?” 

“Yeah,” he calls. He’s still on his bed, and he still stares at his ceiling fan. 

Steve bumps the door closed with his heel, sits on the side of his bed, and puts a mug of warm tea on the bedside table. He has one in his lap, too. “Are you okay?” 

“Is the peppermint tea the go-to beverage for people that are sad?” he says instead. 

Steve frowns. 

Bucky gives in. “I will be. I think it’ll be good to just, get it over with.” 

Steve rubs the back of his neck. “For some reason, I feel like I should apologize to you. Because it’s technically _me_ that’s making you so upset.” 

Bucky hoists up on his elbow and frowns. “No, sweetheart. It’s not you.” 

Steve stares at his drink and then takes a sip. “It is me.” 

Bucky sighs. “It’s another you. It’s confusing as fuck, yeah. But,” he takes the tea and drinks some. It does make him feel a little better. “This Other Steve isn’t you. You two had the same life up until the Valkyrie crashed, and then it’s like this fork in the road. Everything after is different. And that’s what matters to me.” 

“I just don’t get why?” Steve says. “I should know myself enough to understand. But I can’t.” He takes another sip. “I love Peggy. I do. But, I just don’t know. I know people change, but…” He frowns again. “I guess I got some soul-searching to do.” 

They sit in silence for a moment, drinking their tea. 

Bucky finally breaks. He puts his tea down, and he takes Steve’s from his hold to put on the side table. “Alright. C’mere.” 

He shuffles towards the middle of the bed, and Steve crawls up to settle by his side. 

They hold hands and stare at the ceiling fan, together. 

“Y’know,” Bucky says softly. “When I got triggered by Zemo a few years ago, I tried to retreat with a helicopter. The Other Steve chased me down, and he held onto the fucking thing so I couldn’t fly away. And even when I choked him out and dragged us down into the water, he still dove in after me. He waded us out, and he carried me to a safe hiding spot. He wouldn’t let them take me.” 

Steve squeezes his hand. 

“I remember it all,” he continues quietly. “When Shuri fixed me up, it came to me. I remember choking him, squeezing his neck. And he still went after me to keep me safe.” He swallows a lump in his throat. “I guess, I just thought that meant he didn’t want me to leave him. That he wanted me around. Because I mean, I was in love with him when I knew how to love again. And I thought he felt something for me, too. That’s why he wouldn’t give up on me. He didn’t want me gone. Not again. But, after Berlin and Siberia, I still left him. I went back under the ice for everyone’s own good. Then I fucking died right in front of him. I keep thinking that maybe he just...wanted to be the one to leave for once.” 

Steve touches the side of his face. “Buck.” 

Bucky’s eyes water. “He went back to the fucking past, to live an entire fucking life because he—” 

Steve hushes him and pulls him into his arms. “It’s not your fault.” 

Bucky shakes his head, his throat closing tight. “He didn’t want me or any of us anymore. He left us, sweetheart. He didn’t want us anymore.” 

“I want you,” Steve insists. “I want you, honey. I’m not gonna leave. I love you, Buck.” 

Bucky snuffles against his neck, the tears finally spilling. “I love you, too.” He clutches at the back of Steve’s tee. “I love having you here. But it still hurts. It still hurts.” 

“I know.” Steve rubs his back again, slowly over his spine. “I know, honey.” 

“I’m sure people think I’m heartless. That I don’t deserve to ever feel good, or that I’m supposed to be stoic and empty. Or that HYDRA blasted my feelings out of my skull years ago, but I hurt so much, Steve. I feel so much I sometimes wish I didn’t feel anything at all.” 

“No, honey, no,” Steve says softly. 

“It’s like I’ve kept it inside me for so long, building up, and now the dam’s breaking, and I’m so fucking angry and sad,” he cries softly. “But, then I’m so happy. So fucking happy to be here with you. With our new little family. It just is so much. So much.” 

Steve holds him while he sniffles for a while before he finally wipes at his eyes to look at Steve. 

When Steve kisses his forehead, his face, against his will, melts. “See, you’re still scrunching your nose.” He kisses Bucky’s forehead again in a quick succession to prove his point. 

Bucky loves him. He tilts his face up and pouts. 

This kiss isn’t conservative. It’s open-mouthed, desperate, and what Bucky’s been aching for. He tugs at Steve’s bottom lip to hear him gasp, and then wraps his fingers in his hair to tug him in closer.

Bucky rolls them around until he’s sitting in Steve’s lap. “Is this okay?” he asks quietly, peppering kisses over his cheeks and mouth. 

“Yeah,” Steve promises, and he pulls Bucky down. 

“Not going too fast?” he says against Steve’s neck. 

“Not at all. We can neck for a bit, honey,” Steve says softly. 

They do just that. 

Bucky hasn’t been held, kissed, or touched like this in a long fucking time. He’s liable to break into a full-out shiver or fucking tremble. 

“Mm,” he grunts when Steve’s hands sneak under his shirt to rub at the skin on his back. He sits up and takes off his shirt. 

Steve looks at him, dazed and all dreamy. His hand hovers over his gnarled, pink stub where his metal arm attaches, and he makes a soft, inquisitive hum. Bucky nods, and Steve rubs it carefully. “It doesn’t hurt?” he whispers. 

“Nuh uh,” he coos. “You can touch me anywhere you want.” 

Steve blushes and stutters a bit, so Bucky kisses him quiet.

“You’re so sweet,” he drawls. “Steve, you’re so sweet. You make me feel...” he pulls away, and he gulps. He holds Steve’s chin in his hand, and they lock eyes. “I feel loved by you.” 

Steve lunges in again to kiss on him, to kiss the sting away. He can feel Steve becoming aroused, and a part of him takes pride that can can make someone feel good, too. That his body is sweet and loving. His body can give pleasure, not just pain. 

“Bucky,” Steve strains when he gives a tentative stroke over the front of his sweatpants. He grabs Bucky’s sides. “Honey.” 

“That good?” he murmurs into his ear before kissing and tugging the lobe. 

“Yeah,” Steve croaks. 

He wants to go further, but he suddenly recoils at the thought of sex. It feels like too much. Too much. 

But, Steve isn’t asking for that right now. They’re just feeling good. 

“You good?” Steve whispers. “You tensed up. Did I do something?” 

Bucky shakes his head. “No, you’re perfect.” He kisses Steve’s nose. “You’re just right.” 

They neck and pet until his phone buzzes. Bucky pulls away, and Steve chases after his lips. Bucky laughs and sits up. He grabs the phone. It’s a text from Wanda: “we are almost home so if ur done sulking and brooding, pls come help put away groceries :) :) :)” 

Bucky huffs. “Well,” he says. “Max and Sam are almost home.” 

Steve pouts and sits up. “Okay.” 

They give each other a look-over and laugh. “You’re all pink,” Steve teases. He runs his hair through Bucky’s to straighten it a bit. 

Bucky throws his shirt back on, and Steve coyly adjusts himself in his sweats. They laugh again. 

After they get off the bed, Bucky has Steve help him reattach his arm. Then, Steve goes to cool off in his room, and Bucky sorts himself out in his bathroom. He’s got some red marks over his neck. 

“Well,” he says, pressing his thumb against one particularly bright red mark to watch it turn white under his thumb. Thinking really hard about it won’t make them heal faster, but he tries. "Oh well." Who is he to be embarrassed, anyway. No one's gonna clutch pearls when they see hickies littered over his neck. 

Actually, Wanda cackles when she sees him, and Sam almost drops the carton of milk.

“Steve, _you dog_!” Wanda exclaims when Steve joins them downstairs. 

Sam simply clasps him on the shoulder. 

Steve turns bright red. 

Wanda absolutely loves it.

*

Wanda prepares the supper and shoos them away when they try to step in or help. “I got it!” she insists, stirring a sauce simmering on the stove with a red stream of her powers. She’s loaded it with probably every spice in their cabinet, and it smells rich and delicious. “Go, uh, make your beds. Or something. Shoo!”

Sam and Steve concede, and they head upstairs to appropriately fuck off. 

Bucky sits at the island and watches her.

“My mother used to make this,” she says simply as she fries some strips of steak in another pan with her free hand. “I would sit and watch her, just as you watch me.” 

She uses the rice cooker to steam rice, and she peels potatoes and carrots thin. “She’d threaten to swat my hand away with her wooden spoon if I tried to sneak a taste,” she says with a fond smile. “Then she’d give me a sample anyway so I could make sure it was up to standard.” 

She wags her own spoon in Bucky’s direction. “But, if you try to sneak a taste before the table is set, I will swat you with this.” She then winks and turns back to the stove. 

When it’s almost ready, she allows for them to help her finally. Well, not with the food. 

Steve sets up the table, and Sam fills up the water glasses. Bucky is given the essential task of making sure everyone washes their fucking hands because Wanda couldn’t think of anything else for him to be in charge of as she pulled some bread rolls from the oven. 

Wanda piles up the table easily with the dishes floated over with her red glowing strings setting them down gently in the center. Once they’re all seated (with clean hands, mind you) she allows them to serve themselves. She watches very intently as they take bites, gauging their reactions. 

It is wonderful. They let her know this, repeatedly. She waves it off dismissively, but she smiles ear to ear. 

Wanda made enough that Bucky and Steve can gorge themselves and still leave seconds for Sam and herself. 

She lets them takeover clean up, gladly. 

When it’s fifteen to twenty-hundred, Wanda and Sam head upstairs. Wanda insists on a group hug, and they oblige her. 

"You got it, man," Sam says. "We'll be right upstairs, okay?" 

Bucky nods. He listens to them heading up and their doors snicking shut. 

Steve sticks around. “He said he wanted to meet me, right?” he points out, settling against the couch in the prime location. Bucky sits next to him. Steve pokes at a spot that’s still on Bucky’s neck, and he smiles. “And, after, I ugh, I can put some headphones in. I won’t try to eavesdrop or anything.” 

Bucky scoffs and takes Steve’s hand, brings it to his lips, and kisses his knuckles. “You can listen in. Anything he has to say to me, he can say to you.” 

His body seems to evolve with the situation in the next five minutes. A wave of stoic, calmness washes over him the way it does when he’s coming in on a fight. His senses are more alert and sharp. His heartbeat is steady. He has no nerves or any desire to chew at his fingernails or shake his knee. 

He has a new mission: Make Contact with Old Steve. 

Bucky can complete this mission. He’s got Steve by his side. 

He can do it. 

The doorbell rings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky has feelings, okay! It is a _crime_ that the friendship between Sam, Steve, Wanda, and Bucky was never explored in the MCU. I would add Natasha into the mix, but sadly, now I cannot.
> 
> Wanda's cooking inspired by this [ scene](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gMVw1QzIZJI) in Civil War. Also, feel free to listen to [this ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=586Ujrz2R1k) if you want to re-read Steve and Bucky's _sulking and brooding_. 
> 
> I apologize for any errors.


	6. Chapter 6

“Expecting someone else?” Nick Fury surmises, his brow raised.

Bucky doesn’t answer.

Steve’s still perched on the couch. “Who is it?” he mouths to Bucky. 

Fury nudges his head to the side. There’s a black car idling. “Care to take a ride with me?” 

Bucky looks him up and down. He’s got a briefcase in one hand, and Bucky sighs. 

“Steve,” Bucky says sternly. “Tell the others I’m going out for a bit.” 

“What?” Steve asks, and he heads over to the door. 

Fury extends his hand. “Captain Rogers. It’s nice to meet you. For the second time.” 

Steve shakes it, brows still furrowed. “You’re Nick Fury?” 

“Yes, I am,” Fury says, and then he looks back to Bucky. “It’s raining pretty hard, Sergeant Barnes. And I double parked.” 

Bucky curtly nods and grabs his raincoat from the hook by the door. Steve grabs his hand before Bucky can leave. 

“Do you need me to come?” he whispers in Bucky’s ear, and he looks so earnest and wary. “You’re okay?”

Bucky gives him a small smile. “I’ll be fine.” 

Steve kisses his cheek and lets him go. Fury doesn’t blink. 

Fury slides into the driver’s side. “Do you mind?” Fury says as they drive away, pointing at the radio. “I’ve been listening to this podcast. Very riveting stuff.” 

Bucky doesn’t answer; he concentrates on the roads, memorizing the turns and streets. 

“Alright,” Fury mumbles, and he turns up the volume nob. 

Bucky does not usually feel _awkward_ , but sitting in the car with Nick Fury listening to a true crime podcast on a rainy Monday night might induce him to feel uneasy. Bucky has a blurry memory of Nick Fury in a similar black car from years ago. He can smell the black smoke. He remembers shooting Nick Fury. How he didn’t feel a thing once he pressed the trigger. 

The podcast host starts dissecting an interview, and Fury nods along with her. 

Bucky stares out the window. He pictures Old Steve on his doorstep, waiting for him, only to find out that Bucky's not home. Well, Wanda and Sam probably won’t be delighted to hear Bucky’s off with Fury, too. 

“I was,” he blurts. “Expecting someone else.” 

“I know.” 

Bucky keeps his face blank and his voice mirthless when he asks, “Did you bug my home?” 

“No.” He leaves it at that. “Do you like pastries?” 

Bucky shrugs. “Why.” 

Fury pulls the car to a stop outside of a bakery. “This place has great bear claws.” After they’re out of the car, Fury pulls out a keyring and opens the door. He punches in some numbers on the alarm system, and he flicks on the lights. “I like the pastries here so much the owners gave me a spare key.” 

Bucky doubts that’s the real reason, but he follows inside. Fury helps himself to some pastries left behind the counter, and then he settles down in a booth. Bucky sits down across from him. 

Honestly, it’s a rather peculiar picture. Nick Fury in a pastel booth, cramming a pastry into his mouth before he attempts to recruit Bucky into some serious plot. It’s not something Bucky could make up on his own. 

“So, are we here to eat and chit chat?” Bucky starts, because he's in no mood for waiting around to get to the point. Well, he could wait. He figures Old Steve’s gonna have to reschedule to talk to him. Maybe Fury’s just given him the best excuse ever to avoid the conversation a little longer. 

Wordlessly, Fury tears off a piece and plops it into his mouth, and then he thunks the briefcase onto the table and flips the latches open. With sticky fingers, he passes a manila folder red- stamped CONFIDENTIAL over to Bucky. 

“Take a look,” Fury tells him. 

Bucky scans over the folder’s contents. It’s a rabbit hole Natasha Romanov dabbled in after the Snap: a trafficking organization operating in Eastern Europe that’s trading weapons and people. When half the world disappears, a human being can be sold for twice as much. And business boomed. Romanov sporadically gathered intel when she wasn’t busy coordinating meetings with aliens and heroes, Avengering, or searching for a reversal to the Snap. Power-hungry officials that still enabled the Accords slowed Romanov’s attempts to legally infiltrate domestic bases. Not only that, but these fuckers were airtight with their secrecy. Barely a papertrail much less an online fingerprint. Romanov must have been busting her ass digging around for information.

“She’d been working on this,” Fury says. “When she could.” 

Bucky skims over some more of the intel. If he was a normal person, he’d probably be deeply disturbed. His stomach would probably be dropping while reading the descriptions of what this organization is doing. But he’s too...too fucked up. Nothing like this fazes him anymore. He feels cold and angry, but never revolted or dizzy. It’s a blessing in disguise, he figures, in this line of work. 

“I’m guessing this isn’t being funded by any acronym agencies?” Bucky says. "Given how many countries this includes." 

“This will be completely off the books,” Fury says. “The Accords are still a clusterfuck, and we can’t trust too many people with this intel.” 

Bucky understands that, and he flips through some maps. “Why now?” 

“Well, for starters: Natasha’s not around to finish it,” Fury says, and Bucky catches his frown. “It took Hill and me a while to decrypt all of this. She had a failsafe folder in her personal laptop that would be sent to me or Hill in case of her incapacitation. A week after we came back, it showed up in my personal inbox. Then we had to fill in some of the cracks. We now have enough intel to act on it and clean it up. When the Snap reversed, some consequences followed. They’re weaker than ever. The time to strike must be soon.” 

Bucky skims over all the names and faces of the operatives Natasha tracked down, and he recognizes three of them. 

“Former HYDRA agents,” Bucky murmurs out loud, and Fury nods. 

“Those guys left before the Triskelion fell in 2014, and they set down roots during the mess that followed. Everyone was too distracted: the SHIELD leaks, the Accords, the Snap. Intervention is overdue.” 

Bucky sighs. 

“You’re the best one for the job. The only one, really,” Fury continues. “Compared to all the heroes and what-nots we have now. You’ve got a set of skills they don’t: Stealth. Discretion. Polyglotism. Pragmatic efficiency. And, an itch for revenge that’s always helpful.”

“Don’t flatter me,” he says. 

Fury gives a mirthless laugh. “I mean it. I know you trained Natasha. You’re the one most capable to fix this.” 

Bucky keeps his breath steady as he sifts through some of the graphic images of victims and former “livestock” as the operatives would say. “And by ‘fix,’ I’m guessing you mean obliterate the motherfuckers until there's nothing left?” 

Fury cracks a smile. “That’s one way to put it.” 

Bucky combs through the contents before he’s had enough. He looks at Fury, waiting for him to outright say it. “Is this an order?” 

“No. I won’t force you to do this,” Fury says. “I’m sure you’re tired of having others tell you what to do and when to fight. All I can do is urge you to finish this for her.” 

Bucky closes the folder. “This was personal.” 

“Yes.” The flicker of remorse in Fury’s eyes says enough. “It was.” 

Bucky remembers finding out Natasha was dead. Killed for the Soul Stone. After Thanos was killed, everyone was sheltered away to hotels or (if they had one) home before reconvening at Stark's for the funeral. Bucky hadn’t had the time to take stock of everyone after the battle: there were so many faces, some of which he had no fucking clue who they were. He was sitting in the front seat (finally). Sam was driving them out to Stark's. Steve was silently sitting in the back, and Wanda was reading a book beside him. Sam said something along the lines of “I’m guessing Nat is driving with the Bartons?” and "I haven't seen her around" when Steve finally told them. 

Sam had to pull over on the side of the road to process it, and Wanda began to tear up. Bucky couldn’t muster up the tears to sob or cry, but his heart was heavy. He remembers blinking and blinking, trying to not get too emotional. Sam wanted to know when Natasha’s funeral happened, and Steve couldn’t answer that. “There’s no body to bury,” he said, and Sam finally cracked. 

Now, Bucky looks at Fury. He knows Natasha and Fury were close. Akin to a father-daughter relationship. 

“I’m sorry,” Bucky says, and he means it. “I’m sorry she’s not here.” 

Fury’s face falls, and he sighs. “I heard about Rogers. The first one. That he left.” 

Bucky frowns, and he rubs the back of his neck. “He made his choice.” 

Fury nods, and his eye fixates on Bucky’s neck. 

Oh yeah. The marks Steve bit into his neck are probably still there. 

“I see you and the newer Rogers are getting along just fine,” Fury remarks, and he leaves it at that. 

Bucky doesn’t have a smart reply to that, so he watches Fury finish off his pastry. 

“I’m not an agent,” Bucky says. 

Fury shrugs. “And I’m not a director.” 

Bucky stares at his metal hand. “You trust me? After everything?” 

Fury narrows his eye. “Yes. I do.” 

“When do I start?”

*

Fury drives them back to the townhouse. He’s given Bucky the briefcase and its contents: a programmed burner, two fake passports, a wad of cash, and a one-way ticket to Belarus for tomorrow morning.

Wanda ambushes him at the front door when he returns, and she looks both furious and worried. 

“Is he still out there?” she demands, and before he answers she heads out to see for herself. Fury has long since driven away, and she stomps inside, the bottoms of her sweatpants soaked. 

Sam’s at the kitchen island nursing a beer. “So?” he asks pointedly staring at the suitcase in Bucky’s hand. 

“I leave tomorrow morning,” Bucky offers. He figures they already know he’s been enlisted for a mission: Nick Fury doesn’t take one out for a joyride or out to dinner just for fun. 

Sam sighs. “And you want to do it?” 

Bucky nods. “Yeah.” 

Wanda eyes him up and down with obvious displeasure. “Well,” and she makes her way to the freezer. She takes out a tub of ice cream, and her red glow pulls four bowls from the cabinet. She doesn’t finish her thought; instead, she uses her powers to scoop out the ice cream into the bowls, smothering them with sprinkles and chocolate syrup. 

“Are you cross with me?” Bucky asks, leaning against the counter. 

Wanda shrugs, trying to act nonchalant. “No.” She shoves the tub back into the freezer and slams the door shut with a little more force than needed. “I’m not.” 

Bucky doesn’t press. 

A door opens upstairs, and Steve comes lobbing down. He’s got worry etched on his face; his eyebrows knit together. “You’re leaving?” he says immediately, eyes wide. 

Bucky nods, and he rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, bud.” 

Steve frowns, sitting down next to Sam. “For how long?” 

“I can’t say.” He means it because he doesn’t know. If he gave them an estimate return date, he’d hate to disappoint them if he’s not done in time. He doesn’t want to rush. 

“Will we be able to contact you, at least?” Wanda asks as a stream of red delivers the bowls and spoons. 

Bucky shakes his head. “I’m afraid not.” 

Wanda twists her mouth in displeasure, but she nods. “And you’re sure you’re gonna be fine?”

“Yes, Max. I’ll be fine.” He gives her small smile. “I promise.” 

Steve glumly sticks a spoon in his mouth. “Can you say what it’s about?” 

Bucky sighs. “No. I can’t,” he says, and then he nudges Steve in the ribs, all hokey. “Don’t mope into your ice cream, Steve.”

Steve scoffs all dignified and glares at his bowl. “I’m not moping.” 

“Uh huh.” 

They all sit and eat in silence for a moment. Bucky takes Steve’s hand and squeezes it.

“So, the Other Steve didn’t show,” Sam mentions calmly. He gives Bucky a pointed look like he might know why Old Steve was a no-show. Bucky shrugs. 

“Maybe he got cold feet,” Wanda surmises. “Ba dum tsk.” 

Bucky would laugh, but all he does is exhale. 

Steve Rogers, old or young, does not get cold feet. He’ll drag his ass into a fight even if it’s not concerning him. He’s a masochist in that way, and he’s not one to retreat from a situation even if he’s bound to get his ass handed to him, verbally or otherwise. 

“Perhaps,” he lies. “Maybe he’s not ready.”

*

Bucky knew that he’d be commissioned eventually. A part of him refused to believe that the rest of his days would be spent lazily and easily with his family.

He can hear one his handlers spitting, “Waste of its purpose” or something to that degree. 

To an extent, he agrees. 

A week after moving in, Bucky began stockpiling for the inevitable. A small corner of his closet holds only a portion of his cache; the rest are scattered across the country in repurposed HYDRA cells that he commissioned remotely. 

He charges the burner phone. Instructions are written in code in the notes section, so he deciphers them. They’re coordinates to off-the-record depots with weapons caches and large quantities of foreign currency. If push came to shove, they would be makeshift safehouses. 

Fury nor the phone mentioned any tactical gear, so Bucky checks his inventory of Kevlar and boots in his closet. 

There’s a knock on his bedroom door. “Door’s open,” he calls out. 

Steve sheepishly lets himself in. “Buck,” he says softly. 

“Mm?” 

Steve sits on his bed and folds his hands in his lap. “I wanna go with you.” 

Bucky sighs and meets his eyes. “Honey,” he starts, and his resolve cracks when he sees the earnest hope in Steve’s eyes. He doesn’t know what to say. “Honey.” 

Steve frowns. “I don’t wanna sit around, Buck. Not if you’re out there,” he starts, smoothing his hands over his sweatpants. “I can be useful.”

Bucky moves from the closet and sits beside Steve. “You are useful, but honey. I was made to do this.” 

“What does that even mean?” Steve asks. “You’re more than just some spy or weapon, Buck.” 

“But, I’m good at it. Fucking great at it. If I can do some good with what I was made into, then I should.” He puts his hand over Steve’s. “I have a penance to pay.” Steve starts to object, but Bucky shushes him. “I do. I’ve done more bad than good, honey. I’m doing this for myself, Steve. I want to do it.” 

Steve purses his lips into a pout. “I could be back-up.” 

“It’s too late for that.” There’s not enough time to forge him some documents, much less, teach him how to be an effective operative. “You’d stick out like a sore thumb.” 

“Buck, I’m in the same boat as you. I can't just... Erskine gave me the serum for a reason. I can’t just sit on my ass if I can be serving,” he insists. “Helping. I’m not a dancing monkey, and I’m not some lazy–” 

“I know,” Bucky says, and he rests their foreheads together. “I know.” 

Steve sighs. “I’ll miss you.” 

“I’ll miss you, too,” he says against Steve’s mouth as he leans in to kiss him. “I’ll miss you bad.” 

Steve clutches him by the shoulders, pulls them close and tight. Their noses smush together a little, so he changes the angle. Steve sighs all sweet into his mouth, and Bucky’s gonna miss this. 

Bucky suddenly pulls back, his throat all clogged and a bolt of fear running through him. He’s gonna miss everyone. And some what-ifs starts floating in his head: _what if I don’t come back? What if I fail? What if I never get to see my family again?_

“Hey,” Steve whispers. He strokes his thumb around Bucky’s cheek. “What is it?” 

Bucky swallows thickly. “I’m gonna come back to you.” 

Steve frowns. “Are you thinking that you won’t?” 

Bucky shrugs, trying to seem tough. Trying not to make Steve fret. “I just want you to know that. I’m gonna think of you every moment that I can spare. I gotta do this job, but Steve, when it’s over, I’m gonna come back to you. To our family.” 

His eyes sting despite his efforts to look calm, so he wipes at them. 

Steve’s brow furrows and his lips pout. “Of course you will,” he says. “And I’ll think of you, too.” 

Bucky drags Steve in for another kiss; it’s more tender than fierce. Reverent and solemn, like the promise. 

“Can I–” Steve starts, pulling away. He’s blushing madly, and Bucky fucking loves him. “Can I uh…?”

“You wanna stay the night, honey?” Bucky finishes. “Of course you can.” 

Steve beams and tackles Bucky down onto the bed .

*

Bucky wakes up right at 0400. His phone begins to beep right after he sits up, and he rolls his neck.

Steve rolls over and grunts into his pillow, all soft. “Buck?” 

“It’s me,” Bucky whispers, rubbing his back. “You can go back to sleep.” 

They didn’t do anything last night. Well, okay, they necked for a good while before Bucky pulled away, mumbling about waking up early. Steve gave up on stealing another round of kisses once Bucky finally rolled away to change into his pajamas. By the time he was ready for bed, Steve had already burrowed up on one side of his bed. He had the _audacity_ to beckon Bucky over with a come-hither finger hook like the smug little shit he is. Bucky fell asleep easily, listening to Steve softly snoring beside him and with his arm stretched across Steve’s torso. 

Steve sits up anyway, and he squints at Bucky. “It’s time?” 

“Mhm,” he hums, and he bends a little to kiss his forehead. Steve tuts at that, so Bucky tilts up his chin to kiss him properly. 

Bucky would like more than anything to snuggle back under the covers and cozy up to Steve. But he can’t. 

“Gotta get up,” he tells Steve, sounding as sorry as he can. Steve’s a bit grumpy (understandably), so Bucky indulges him with one more kiss before he kicks off the covers and heads to his dresser. 

Steve flops down with a huff, and he winces when Bucky turns on a lamp. After rubbing at his eyes, Steve reaches across to Bucky’s nightstand to grab his phone. “Ugh.” 

“I know.” Bucky double checks his bag and briefcase after he’s changed. He puts the burner phone into his pocket, and he zips up the hoodie. He’s flying on a commercial flight; he can’t stick out. 

He hefts up the bags and makes his way to the door. Steve follows after him, slumping down the stairs. 

“Not even making a creak,” he tells Bucky as though that could change things. Not creaking on a staircase does not mean you’re an effective spy, but Bucky doesn’t say that out loud. 

He starts up some coffee, and Steve sits with him as he chugs a protein shake from the fridge. 

“Up bright and early, huh?” Sam says, tiptoeing down the stairs. He rubs at his eyes, and when he sits down at the kitchen island, he props his head up by a hand (otherwise, it’d probably thunk down on the granite). 

“You didn’t have to wake up,” Bucky says, wiping his mouth. It’s a kind gesture from Sam to wake up to see him before he departs. If Bucky was sappier, he’d probably give Sam some inspiring speech about keeping the fort down and keeping things running as usual. But he’s not Steve, and Sam doesn’t need to be told to watch over the house. That’d just inflate his ego. 

Sam shrugs. Then he looks over at what Bucky's drinking and his eyes narrow. He stalks over to the fridge and opens it. “You’re drinking my protein shake, aren’t you?” he sighs and shuts the door. 

“Am I?” Bucky says right back. He then finishes it up and peppers in a crisp “Ah” just to make a point. 

Sam rolls his eyes. He opens up the freezer and takes out one of Bucky’s ice cream sandwiches. He unwraps it and stuffs it into his mouth. “Yum,” he says with his mouth full. Like he doesn’t have a brain freeze. 

“Really?” Bucky says. Sam takes another large bite. 

Steve exhales heavily, and they both cut it out. 

“Fury’s got a car coming in fifteen,” Bucky says, after his phone dings.

“Where are you flying to?” Sam asks. “Can you say?” 

“Eastern Europe.” 

“That’s helpful,” Sam grumbles. “Very specific.” 

“Yep,” Bucky agrees. 

“I smell coffee,” Wanda says, and she comes down the stairs. She’s huddled herself in one of her many throw blankets, and she yawns right as she slides into a seat at the island. “It’s really early.” 

“Mhm,” Steve agrees, and he pours a cup. He knows how Wanda takes hers, so he delivers it to her with three packets of sugar. He sips at his own cup as though the caffeine works on him. The placebo effect on super-soldiers has not been verified, but it probably works the same. He slides in back next to Bucky, and he puts his hand over Bucky's. 

“Do you think you’ll be back before the wedding?” Wanda asks after blowing at her mug. 

Bucky shrugs. “I don’t know,” he offers. “I’d like to, but if I can’t then I can’t. Take a celebratory shot for me or something." 

"Guess I'll have to dance with Sam?" Steve teases, and Bucky nudges him in the rib. "If you're not around." 

"Well, speaking of dances," Sam starts. "Did the other Steve call you or anything? To let you know why he didn't come?” He crumbles the desecrated ice cream sandwich wrapper into the trash. Bucky shakes his head. Sam huffs. “What do we do if he stops by when you’re out?” 

Bucky sighs. “Tell him he’s gone eighty years without me. He can last a little longer.” 

Wanda smirks into her mug. Steve frowns. “It is weird, though. That Fury showed up right as the Other Me was supposed to.” 

Bucky doesn’t have an explanation for that. 

When the car arrives, everyone insists on parading out to see him off. Steve wants to carry his two bags for him, and Sam and Wanda want to be able to wave at him until the car’s out of sight. 

It’s still pretty dark out, and Bucky makes sure to remind everyone to hush up. He’s not eager to wake up the whole street right before he sets off on a top secret mission. 

A sleek black car pulls up. The window rolls down. 

“You gotta be shitting me,” Bucky curses. 

Because, it’s Steve Rogers in the driver’s seat. A young, goddamn fucking handsome Steve Rogers with a lopsided smile and a stupid crooked nose and slicked back blonde hair and, and, and 

“What? The fuck?” Wanda seethes. “I don’t…” 

Sam chokes on his coffee. 

The Steve holding Bucky’s bag freezes then shifts into a defensive stance. 

“Hey, Buck,” the Steve Rogers in the car says. “Surprise.” 

Bucky stares at him for a moment before turning on his heel, yanking his bag from Steve, and marching back inside.

*

Fury picks up on the second ring. Bucky jammed the call button after finding it in the burner’s contact list, and he’s not fucking happy.

“Now, let me explain,” Fury says before Bucky’s even said a word.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he hisses. "Who the fuck was driving that car? Is that _him_?" 

“Bucky?” a Steve says outside his bedroom door. He’s locked it and set his dressed against it (as though that would help him). He hates that he can’t figure out if it is his Steve or Formerly Old Steve calling for him. “Are you okay?” 

Fury says, “Banner figured out a way to transform him back. Back to his younger self that is. Apparently when they were testing out time travel on Scott Lang, the experiment provided evidence of essentially a fountain of youth.” 

“So you knew?” Bucky demands. "I thought this was a solo mission. What the fuck?"

“Buck, please,” the Steve outside his door pleads. 

“I never said it was just you. I originally planned for it just to be you, but then I got word he'd reverted back. He’s capable of stealth work, Barnes. I enlisted him to join you because he'd do a good job, and he's figured out how to be young and spiffy again. He did it yesterday evening apparently. I got the word right as I was en route to your home. I didn’t know you’d react like this. I thought you and Rogers–" 

“You, you fucking ambushed me,” Bucky clarifies. “You don't fucking get it, Fury. You missed some key intel on that one, pal. I’m not working with him. Call it off. I’m done.” 

“Bucky, please,” comes from outside again. 

“Barnes, listen—” Fury says. 

“I know you’re upset—” 

“It is the best course of action—” 

“Just, I gotta know you’re okay—" 

“And he’d be best equipped to help—” 

“It’s me. It’s me—” 

“I didn't intend to ambush you, so to speak—” 

“I’m worried, Buck—” 

“Rogers was eager to work with you—” 

“Please let me come in—” 

“I couldn’t say no to that—” 

“Please—” 

Bucky crushes the phone between his hand. It’s too much. The Winter Soldier might have been able to block out all of this, but he is Bucky Barnes. This is too much. 

He grabs his duffle and throws up the window. When he drops down from the third story, he lands on his feet. For a moment, he’s glad his window didn’t face the street. 

When the sky is blue and the sun pelts down on him, it isn’t until then, that he skids to a stop on an unfamiliar rooftop. He doesn't know how long or how far he's been running, but all he knows is that he's been operating on auto-pilot, running for his life. 

He slumps down and makes himself breathe in and out. In and out. 

“Fuck,” he tells himself. “Fuck.”


End file.
